Get your own Free Home Page Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This story does not intend to infringe on any copyright.
Kath's notes: I know very little about avalanches, earthquakes, or chest injuries. Therefore it is entirely possible this is a piece of fantasy. Please forgive any inaccuracies - I sincerely hope they don't detract from your enjoyment of the story.
Thanks muchly to Vicki for inspiration and editorial advice. Feedback gratefully appreciated.
*****
It was cold on P8X-249.
Cold enough to chill Colonel Jack O'Neill to the bone. Icicles hung down from the DHD as thick as tree branches and as solid as marble. Bitter winds blew down from imposing crags of rock thickly laden with snow. The sky was clear but the moving air lifted dry gusts off the ground to give an illusion of a blizzard.
Not far from the gate, a network of shallow caves offered a meager shelter from the elements for the local inhabitants of the area. Jack had already been cold even before the frosty reception by the tribe. Now he resisted the urge to shiver. It was a cold that made his cheeks sting, his ears go numb, and his hands ache. It hurt his lungs to breathe it in and settled in his stomach as a tiny but growing knot of worry.
Jack and Teal'c stood apart from the crowd watching as first Daniel Jackson and then Samantha Carter tried to reason with tribal elders. Daniel's agitation was evidenced by his rapid-fire speech well punctuated with hand gestures. Carter was more practical, less emotional, in her approach but the beseeching glance she threw back to Jack spoke volumes about her distress. Jack let out an audible sigh. Teal'c inclined his head.
"I do not believe these people will heed our warning, O'Neill."
Jack snorted. "Ya think?"
They'd been trying collectively for several hours to persuade the people of P8X-249 to relocate pending an imminent shift of the snow pack that hung just above the caverned village. But the 49ers were proving to be not only stubborn but also downright hostile. They displayed an arrogance to rival the Goa'uld, combined with a xenophobia the likes of which SG1 had not previously encountered. They'd seen plenty of strange, unusual, heck downright crazy behaviour, but never anything like this, thought Jack.
"Please." Daniel was not above begging to get results. "Let us help you. We are here as friends."
Jack didn't hear the response but knew what it was based on the body language of both his friend and the haughty leader.
"Okay kids, it's been fun. Time to move out." Jack rubbed his gloved hands together to encourage better blood flow. His two scientists immediately turned their arguments on him.
"Jack! We can't just leave! That snow could drop at any moment!"
"Colonel, these people need to be evacuated!"
Jack's expression became exasperated. Did they really think he didn't have a clue what was going on?
"Daniel, if that mountain's gonna crash it's all the more incentive to get outta Dodge. Major, short of physically carrying them kicking and screaming from their home, there's nothing more we can do here. Let's go."
Moving towards the entrance Jack looked back over his shoulder to see Teal'c had fallen in step behind him. Daniel remained rooted as though stunned while Carter seemed to waver with indecision before stepping ahead of Teal'c to Jack's side.
"Sir, we can't just leave them here to die."
"Suggestions, Major?" he queried without slowing his stride. "Daniel! We're going and that means NOW!" 'Don't make me carry you out, Danny boy, and don't think I wouldn't do it if I had to.'
Carter hadn't given up. She circled around to stand between O'Neill and the DHD gaining his full attention. Daniel slowly approached from the cave entrance. The air suddenly cracked and a distant rumbling vibrated from the mountain.
"So it begins," stated Teal'c.
"Carter, either dial us home or get out of the way," Jack said, his patience clearly at an end.
"Sir, we have to�we can't just�"
"Oh for crying out loud!" snapped Jack. He reached out to roughly push Carter sideways and smacked the glyphs on the tablet.
"Jack," murmured Daniel, in protest of leaving or Jack's handling of his second in command -- or both.
The gate opened with its usual flourish and Teal'c immediately began gathering their equipment. Jack sent the transmission for the iris code and then turned to face his opposition.
"We gotta go," he said. When neither made a move he clenched his jaw. "That's an order, Major. We're extracting."
"Sir," she acknowledged with a voice that put the icicles to shame. She executed a military turn and marched to the gate.
"Jack, these people don't stand a chance without our help," Daniel pleaded.
"We don't stand a chance unless we go. That means you, that means now, that means moving your butt through that gate before it gets buried under a ton of ice!"
Daniel pressed his lips together in a tight line that told Jack how little his anger was appreciated. But he did follow Carter up to and through the gate. He was shortly followed by Teal'c who waited only to be sure O'Neill was close behind. Jack hesitated on the threshold, looking over to the cave's entrance. Another gust of wind blew against him, cutting right through him. He shivered and stepped towards home.
For once the icy claws of the wormhole didn't seem quite so numbing. Jack stumbled slightly but recovered easily on the SGC ramp. Snow dropped off his shoulders onto the metal underneath his feet. It felt almost as though he stepped indoors from a blizzard with a swirl of wind behind him.
General Hammond awaited an explanation at the bottom of the ramp. "Are you alone, Colonel?"
"Yes sir." Jack sounded weary.
Hammond looked to all the team members. "Very well. We'll debrief in one half hour."
*****
Hammond had seen his number one team go through a lot since they'd come together. He couldn't remember a meeting where they'd seemed quite so fractured. Teal'c was as impassive as always, commenting only when warranted. But to have both Dr. Jackson and Major Carter remain so silent while Colonel O'Neill recounted the mission was unprecedented. O'Neill's report was terse and lacking any of the colonel's usual irreverent editorial flare. Even though they often sat with the scientists on one side of the table and the warriors on the other, today Hammond felt he could see a rift between them.
"It sounds like you did all you could, Colonel," Hammond said when the report came to an abrupt end.
Daniel snorted and Carter looked away. O'Neill's expression grew annoyed.
"What we did, General, was abandon those people," Daniel said. "When we could have done more, so much more."
"Oh really?" cut in Jack before Hammond could speak. "And just how were we going to do that when those pig headed, superstitious primitives would hardly talk to us?"
Ah, thought Hammond, now we get the true story.
"Well," Daniel began slowly, his brow creased in consternation. "We could have started by seeing them as human beings worthy of our help instead of as...superstitious primitives."
"Oh please! Spare me the lecture on cultural politeness. Those people didn't want anything to do with us. Every word we said was suspect to them. They didn't want our help; they didn't even want to breathe the same air!"
"How many times have we gotten help from a culture more advanced than our own? Where would we be if the Asgard dismissed us as pig headed and primitive?" asked Carter with venom.
For a moment O'Neill's face fell at this unexpected attack. Then his features set in stone. "I didn't dismiss anyone. If anything, I was dismissed by them. And the big difference, Carter, is that when we receive help from those who know more, we're grateful for the assistance!"
"This is a pointless conflict," stated Teal'c calmly "The inhabitants of P8X-249 were not willing to accept our aid. By now the snow has most likely fallen and they are gone."
"Thank you!" O'Neill's momentary gratitude at having an ally dissipated when he absorbed Teal'c's words. "Not that I need any justification from you or anyone else for my command decisions. General." This last acknowledgement was as close to asking permission to leave as O'Neill was likely to get. He stood and strode from the room without looking back.
*****
Jack still felt cold. Even with the heat blasting in his car, hot enough to singe his toes, he still shivered as he entered his home. It was the kind of chill that just wasn't going to go away. He wandered aimlessly through the rooms for a moment, hating the stillness. He turned up the heat, checked through the accumulation of mail and threw most of it away. Damn junk! He picked up a paper -- last week's he noted -- but almost immmediately tossed it down again.
Finally, the chill and his restlessness led him into the kitchen where he hovered by the sink pondering. He didn't really want a beer, too cold, although a shot of alcohol might be just the ticket. Maybe coffee or tea would be a better idea. He opened a cupboard but closed it just as quickly. Maybe not.
Before he had made any decision about his beverage of choice, the front door opened and slammed shut. Surprised, he turned around to greet Sam Carter.
"Sam," he said, to cover his surprise at her near violent entrance.
"You heartless bastard!"
She was livid. She threw her keys down on the table hard enough to make him wince. He supposed he should have expected this but it took him by surprise. And yet why Jack? She practically said that to you in front of Hammond, and would have too, if not for the rank between them.
"Happy to see you too, Sam," he shot sarcastically and turned to go back in the kitchen. She grabbed his arm before he could take a step.
"Doesn't it mean anything to you that we were responsible for those people's deaths today? Do you feel nothing for having killed them all?"
"Let's get something straight here," Jack said icily. "We didn't kill anyone. We were not responsible for anyone's death. We did everything we could to help them and when they refused we got out of harm's way."
"If that helps you sleep at night," she said bitterly, shaking her head. She shrugged off her coat, frustrated at its lack of cooperation, and then threw it down on the sofa.
Exasperated, cold, and just plain fed up with being on the defensive with people he felt should be supporting him, Jack snapped, "Just what the hell did you want me to do, Sam? What other option did I have really?"
"You could have tried harder!" she responded in kind. "You could have put more effort into convincing them instead of standing back with a superior smirk and then waltzing away to save yourself!"
"And you," Jack added softly. "Let's not forget I brought my team home safely."
"You were a stranger to me today, Jack," she said. "I felt like I didn't even know you. I've seen you fight for strangers in the past, to help children and those unjustly attacked. What happened to that man today? Where did he go?"
"You're exaggerating my heroism," Jack said flatly. "And you're completely discounting the smug hostility of those people on 249! Isn't it possible that they should shoulder some of the blame here as well as me?"
"We knew better."
"Says us. And how often do people like the Tollan or the Tok'ra pull that kind of shit on us? Too often. And do we appreciate being told we're inferior? Never. Yet how often do we accept their aid? All the time!"
Sam stood with her arms crossed defensively and stared at the ground for a moment. Then she looked up at Jack. "I guess I just didn't think you'd be so cold about the whole situation. But I guess I was wrong."
She looked around as if just noticing where she was for the first time and then picked up her coat. "I gotta go."
"Wait." Jack reached out but only caught a handful of coat as she turned away. "Sam, wait. Don't go."
"I can't stay here tonight," she said. "I can't be around you when I'm still so angry." She got down on her knees to collect her keys that had fallen underneath the sofa.
Jack felt a new coldness enter him. "Where will you go?" he asked.
She looked up as she felt around for the keys. "I still have an apartment you know."
"I know," he said quietly, even though it was something he tried hard to forget.
The keys retrieved, she stood and pointed at his chest. "Think about what you did today, Jack. And think about what you didn't do but could have."
"And while I'm wallowing in remorse you're going to be doing what?" he asked sharply. "Now which of us has a superior attitude!"
Her head gave a little shake. "As I said, Jack, you're a heartless bastard sometimes."
The door had just closed, with around the same force with which it had been slammed upon her entrance, when Jack's paralysis broke and he ran after her.
"Sam!" he called, just as she reached her car. "Wait, don't go like this. We should..."
"Colonel, I'll see you back on base when we're recalled."
Jack winced at her use of his rank. "Sam, please, don't go away mad. We can work this out."
"Maybe, maybe not. But right now I don't even want to breathe the same air. Good evening Colonel O'Neill."
Jack shivered as she drove away. He felt like he'd never get warm again.
*****
With no clear direction or purpose Daniel wandered down the corridors of the SGC. His team was on stand down, there was no mission for which to prepare, no pressing need of academic theory on any artefact or translation of any text. Damn, he should have asked Jack for some time off and actually left town. Life was dull.
He found himself in the control room looking out at the empty gate. Sam looked up briefly at his entrance but appeared engrossed in whatever task had brought her in to work so early.
"What's up?" asked Daniel.
Sam gestured vaguely at the computer screen. "I'm just running some simulations for General Hammond."
"Ah." We both should have asked Jack for time off, thought Daniel. Sam's even making up work. "Have you seen Jack today?" he asked suddenly. "Because he sure was in a bear of a mood when I passed him earlier and I wondered if..."
"I didn't even know he was here," interrupted Sam, her attention focused on the keyboard.
"Of course he's here," Daniel said. "He's got the regular team lead meeting this morning. Oh to be a fly on the wall for that one!"
"Why?" asked Sam as though she didn't really care.
"Jack's in a bad mood," Daniel explained, patiently. "And he hates those meetings even when he's in his happy place."
*****
Jack did hate meetings. He found most of the bureaucratic sludge of the military machine to be a waste of everyone's time and particularly his. He'd much rather be out in the field doing something than sitting around a table trying for some consensus on an issue or policy. Where had he gone wrong with his career that he had to attend these damn things?
As he listened to the preliminary remarks, Jack twirled his pencil, resisting the urge to tap it against his pad. He pressed his thumbs tightly against it, wondering if it was easier to break closer to the eraser end or the writing end.
"Okay people, listen up!" Hammond said. "We've got a crisis on P7C-128. Our geological survey shows that they are going to suffer a catastrophic seismic event within the next 24 hours. SG-6 is organizing an evacuation of the city along the fault line. We're going to need to move them through here, handle any medical emergencies, and house them until we can find them an alternative location."
"Where's the gate in relation to this seismic event?" asked Jack.
Hammond nodded. "Very close to the epicentre."
"Sweet," Jack murmured. "We should get Carter to look at the reports, see if there's any danger of the gate...uh, breaking down as a result."
"Agreed." Hammond paused. "People, we need to be efficient with this. We've got a lot of folks to move in a very short period of time and not a lot of space to put them. Doctor Fraiser, I want you to handle the triage and flow of patients through the infirmary. Only severe cases treated here, move all others to the base hospital."
Doctor Fraiser nodded and began making some notes on her pad.
"Colonel O'Neill, I want you to run the gate room. We need to keep people moving. Get a team together to handle escorts to transport or the infirmary."
"Understood sir," Jack said.
As Hammond continued to line up his senior staff to coordinate the process Jack looked down at his pad to see that he'd snapped his pencil in two.
*****
The gate room was in chaos. Jack stood with his hands on his hips facing the ramp. He was trying not to show his annoyance at how slowly the marines were moving several crates of gear from the room. Technicians swarmed around the power cables attached to the gate and their equipment was scattered on the floor by their ladders. So when Carter approached him his frown was not really directed at her interruption even if she chose to take it that way.
"Sir? We may have a problem."
"We may have several problems, Major, which one would you like to tackle first?"
Smart ass, thought Sam. She cleared her throat and plunged ahead. "I was looking at the data sent back from P7C-128 and I'm worried about the gate's position in respect to the fault line."
"You think it'll crack when the earthquake hits?" asked Jack.
Carter frowned. "No sir. I think it's possible that a major event could send seismic waves through the wormhole that might have an impact here on earth."
"For crying out loud! We're trying to get stuff outta here, not bring more in!" Jack yelled at a cluster of marines who'd just hauled a crate towards the ramp. He turned his attention back to Carter. "What kind of impact are we talking about here?"
"Quite possibly an earthquake," she told him. "And if I'm right, it will most likely be more severe than it was on P7C-128 due to the magnification of the compressed waves when..."
Carter's always right, Jack thought sadly, even when I'd dearly love for her to be over exaggerating. He cut off her explanation. "What can we do? Anything?"
She took a deep breath. On the whole, he was taking the news a lot better than she'd expected. "Well, I'd like to shore up the beams here in the gate room. This is where the impact would be most felt. Ideally, we could put in place some better seismic structuring to the whole facility but time and money are factors there. But if we bring in some support then we could..."
He interrupted her again. "Ah, ah, ah. None of that technical stuff. How much time do you need? And how many personnel?"
Carter considered the questions. "We could probably get something safely in place in 24 hours, sir. With the help of the facilities team here and maybe, um, 8 to 10 other sets of strong arms."
"We have," Jack consulted his watch, "exactly 52 minutes before this room will be flooded with refugees. See what you can do in that time."
Carter's jaw dropped.
"Sir!" she protested. "That's not enough..."
"Major, that's what we have, that's what we'll use. Let's not waste any precious seconds arguing about it." Jack turned to the technicians now. "Fellas, your time is up! Collect all these gadgets and report to Major Davis in the control room."
Carter hesitated, and then recognized that he was not placing the time restraint on her maliciously or vengefully. That was all the time they had; she'd better get to work.
*****
Hammond was proud of his people. They'd rallied efficiently to put in place an emergency management plan that covered all the angles. Medics were on stand by in the infirmary. Technicians were monitoring power and communications, with triple redundancies in place. O'Neill and a group of marines had worked out the best route to move people along the corridors and up to transportation. Trucks and drivers were on the surface. And Major Carter, with the help of enthusiastic SFs, had brought in some scaffolding and beams to help stabilize their support in the event of a backlash through the wormhole.
All was ready when the gate opened and the first group of people came stumbling through.
*****
On the whole O'Neill thought things were going pretty well.
He stood at one side of the ramp with Ferretti on the other as they encouraged people calmly but forcefully to keep moving. Ferretti siphoned off those in need of immediate medical attention while Jack sent those headed for transport through the door behind him. All along both routes SFs, Marines, and other SGC personnel assisted with the flow.
Jack stooped to lift children into the arms of able-bodied airmen who escorted parents out of the gate room. People were moving quickly and this was good because the faster they moved the shorter the time the gate would be active and the less likely a catastrophic event a kagillion miles away would rock Jack's world.
Anytime he turned in that direction Jack caught a glimpse of Carter's blonde head by a computer monitor in the control room. She was talking to Lieutenant Caine on P7C-128 monitoring conditions there and advising on the situation on Earth. They were going to have to evacuate in two batches due to the length of time required.
Conditions on P7C-128 were worsening; Jack didn't need to be talking to Lieutenant Caine to know that. He saw it plainly on the faces of the refugees. He saw it in the tension Carter tried to hide.
"Come on, folks, keep moving, everything's going to be fine, just head on down the ramp and to the right, keep moving, let's go..."
Things were fine.
*****
Things just couldn't get any worse, thought Carter.
She had half her attention on the data telling her how many travellers were in transit and half on the MALP transmission of Caine. The video transmission was not good, often breaking up or distorting and the audio wasn't much better. Caine was clearly feeling overwhelmed and Carter spared a moment's thanks that his responsibility was communication and not the organization of the evacuation. He was primarily a liaison between the SGC and his team leader. As such he was sending Carter seismic readings of their experiences on P7C-128.
This data had Carter very worried. She wasn't at all confident that the meager support they'd installed in the short time available was going to be adequate. They were relying heavily on seismic upgrades done to the facility shortly after the SG program began. Those measures had sufficiently dampened tremors caused by the gate itself but Sam wasn't sure they were going to be enough this time.
The output of the Richter scaled spiked suddenly and Sam's alarm grew as she saw Caine stumble out of view of the MALP's camera.
"Lieutenant!" she called into the mic. "You've got to stop sending people and shut down. Lieutenant!"
The radio crackled with fuzz and then a very pale Caine reappeared on the video monitor. Carter could only make out every second or third word.
"Repeat, stop sending people through the gate and shut down!"
She appealed with a glance to General Hammond who frowned. "I'm not going to shut down while people are in transit, Major."
"Sir, if that quake comes through on the heals of our refugees then we might lose the whole gate room." And everyone in it, she added silently.
Beside her, Major Davis was sending the order to halt the evacuation pending a lull as data in the hopes that this would make it through where voice had not.
A deep hum vibrated up through the floor. It was much stronger than the norm for gate operations and was not only increasing but also accompanied by an ominous rumble. Caine seemed to have finally understood the message and moved back from the MALP to shout at his fellow team members. He fell to his knees as Carter's Richter spiked again. The whole mountain seemed to shake.
O'Neill's head whipped around to look at the control room. While he maintained composure for the sake of the scared, fragile travellers, Carter knew he was alarmed.
"It's happening, sir," she told Hammond. "God, I hope it holds."
"That wasn't so bad, Major," Hammond commented. "I've felt worse from a transport truck leaving the compound."
Carter's expression was bleak. "That was just a tremor, sir. The quake has yet to hit us."
What could she do? She could hardly grab the mic and broadcast a warning into the gate room. They had control now; it would be pandemonium. She stood up.
"I'm going to tell the colonel that we need to vacate the gate room now."
Oh yeah, things were bad and heading for worse.
*****
Daniel had never seen the SGC so packed with people. He'd definitely seen it busy and chaotic -- in alternate realities he'd even seen it under attack. Today was ordered chaos, as the corridors were filled with people. Most were heading to a holding area before being taken to the surface. Some lined the hall outside the infirmary. Others, SGC personnel like him, maneuvered back against the tide to try to help the newcomers with support, both physical and emotional.
The first rumble alerted Daniel to a more worrisome concern than how to get crowds of people topside.
"That can't be good," he murmured, squeezing past an airman with two small boys in his arms.
With the second tremor Daniel's alarm increased, in reaction mostly to the crowd which was hell bent on getting as far away from the source as possible.
Controlled chaos degenerated into full-fledged.
*****
Carter warned you this might happen, Jack told himself, forcing a neutral and hopefully unconcerned expression on his face. And you know she's never wrong. A tad on the pessimistic side occasionally but when it comes to calculating stuff she's bang on, rock solid...
His quest for further circumstances-specific euphemisms was abruptly cut short when he saw a little girl squeeze through the railing of the ramp just in front of the event horizon.
"Whoa there!" Jack called, scooting around to find her. "You're going the wrong way! It's dangerous back here."
He reached out a hand to her but she cowered away, alarmingly close to the gate and looked at him with wide, unhappy eyes.
Jack took a deep breath and put more calm into his voice than he truly felt. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you to come out and join the others. Where's your mom? Don't you want to be with her?"
Without looking behind him Jack knew the wailing hysteria being held in check by a conveniently placed marine was probably the girl's mother.
The child pointed under the ramp, so Jack crouched down, slowly so as not to scare her further. Just out of reach was a stuffed toy, a treasure and obviously a beloved one.
"I'll make you a deal," said Jack. "You go over to your mom and give her a hug and I'll get your toy for you. Does that sound fair?"
She seemed to think about it and then nodded.
"Okay. Good. You first." He held out a hand to her. With one longing look at her stuffed animal she reached out to him. Jack wasted no time in swinging her up and over to where the marine and mother were and then darted back to the ramp for the toy.
*****
Daniel and Sam nearly collided just outside the gate room doors.
"Sam!" Daniel exclaimed. "Were those tremors we just felt? What's going on?"
"No time," she said tersely. "We need to clear these people out of here fast. Can you see the colonel?"
Over the heads of a swarm of refugees Daniel caught sight of Jack with a little girl across the room.
"There," he told Sam but she'd already seen him.
"What is he doing?" she muttered angrily when she saw him turn back toward the gate on the far side of the ramp.
Daniel looked back to Jack to try to answer her but then the earth shifted. It really did move; something Daniel found quite remarkable in a detached way, even as he reached out arms to steady those around him who would have fallen. The sound of metal creaking, glass cracking and something crashing filled the room. Screams echoed down the corridor, and one in particular yelled, "JACK!" right near his ear. Then the lights were out and he was on his knees on the unforgiving concrete. The press of people was suddenly more frightening than it had been as those exiting the gate threatened to trample him on their way out the door. Despite this mob, the room was eerily still after that terrifying rumble, and the main source of light was the event horizon of the active gate.
Amazingly, somehow Sam was still beside Daniel, offering her arm to steady him on his feet even as she attempted to plow through the horde.
"Colonel! Oh God, Colonel!"
In vain Ferretti and a couple of handy marines tried to regain control. Sam ignored their pleas for calm and order as she scrambled across to the other side of the ramp. Following close on heels Daniel nearly tripped over fallen scaffolding, which he realized came from their attempts to shore up the room's main support beam.
"Colonel?" Sam stepped gingerly over debris to make her way to where O'Neill lay pinned beneath the temporary support beam. "Sir?" Sam's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She reached out to touch his neck.
Jack lifted his arms, bent at the elbows, in a vain effort to remove the weight across his chest. At the same time he gasped, eyes opening, and everything faded, even the pain, in the all-powerful need to get air into his lungs.
"We need to get this off of him!" barked Carter unnecessarily as Daniel was already manuevering to the far side.
He grasped the end of the beam but couldn't move it significantly to even relieve the pressure. In fact, Daniel feared he was only making the situation worse with his feeble attempts.
"I will assist you Daniel Jackson."
Where in the Hell had Teal'c come from? And how had he managed to get his bulk past all the debris without notice? However it had been done Daniel was enormously grateful to have Teal'c's strength raise the beam, not far, but enough for Jack to draw a heaving, painful, wonderful breath.
Carter had managed to remove all the loose pieces of the broken scaffolding. Daniel quickly realized that the offending beam could not be lifted entirely because it was quite solidly wedged beneath the gate ramp. Noting that Teal'c, while quite willing to hold the beam off Jack until he dropped from exhaustion, was straining, Daniel gathered some pieces of broken concrete to prop underneath.
"'s better," murmured Jack, wincing.
"Sir, any bones broken?" Carter asked, trying to examine him in the low light.
It was a moment before Jack answered. "Ribs...aren't...happy."
In that time, Carter, Teal'c, and Daniel had silently conferred and decided that if they couldn't lift the beam off O'Neill they'd have to slide him out from underneath. Carter cleared more debris out of their path while Teal'c prepared to raise the beam a few inches higher than it was propped. Daniel positioned himself by Jack's head and patted his shoulder.
"I can't lie to you, Jack. This is going to hurt."
Jack opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a strangled cry when Carter and Daniel pulled from his armpits. Daniel let go immediately as if burned but Carter pulled long enough to realize there was resistance she hadn't anticipated.
Using her hands to compensate for the lack of light she felt along O'Neill's sides for further obstruction. From the waist down he was under the ramp but there should be enough clearance for him to slide. Carter lay flat on her stomach to ease under the ramp. She hadn't gone far before discovering the problem.
"Sir, there's a piece of metal in your leg."
Carter pulled herself upright and inspected the blood on her hands anxiously.
"Hell, Major! I could've...told ya...that," Jack whispered hoarsely.
It must be the unnatural light from the gate's event horizon that made Jack look so pale, Daniel decided. Because otherwise things were very bad indeed.
"We need some help here!" called Carter just as the gate snapped shut and the room darkened completely.
*****
For some reason despite all his experiences it never ceased to amaze George Hammond how quickly things could go to hell in a handcart. One minute they were running a smooth evacuation with efficiency and order and the next the gate room was in a panic, power was disrupted, and communications to P7C-128 cut.
A helpless Major Davis was left to report to Hammond as Major Carter had disappeared shortly before the earth shook. He was simultaneously trying to re-establish a link to their off world MALP and troubleshoot the lack of lights. The control room had emergency lighting but the gate room was dark. In between these duties he seemed to perpetually respond, "I don't know, sir," to Hammond's questions until the general stopped asking.
When Ferretti had finally cleared the room of panicked refugees and they determined that no further travellers were en route, Hammond ordered the gate shut down. He then paged Doctor Fraiser to send a medical team and went to investigate why SG-1 had convened on the left side of the ramp.
*****
Jack must have zoned out after Carter announced his impalement because the next thing he knew it was pitch black and Janet Fraiser was shining a light in his eyes.
"'r cryin' out loud," he mumbled then groaned.
"Colonel?" Fraiser's voice was unusually gentle. Oh boy, things must be worse than I thought, Jack decided.
He suffered her assessment without complaint, not much he could do as stuck as he was. That is not to say he didn't cry out when she hit a particularly tender spot -- Jack had never been one for false bravado when it came to pain. But things hurt so much all over that it was hard for him to judge where to tell her to focus first. At least he could breathe now that the weight was off his chest.
Carter had vanished but Daniel remained and from this angle Jack could see Teal'c standing just behind. While Daniel's intent had been to offer support, his attention was elsewhere. Jack craned his head stiffly to see Hammond, Carter, and Fraiser silhouetted by some portable lanterns.
"...wedged in very tightly, sir. Without moving the ramp we're not going to be able to..."
"...don't like his vitals. I...nasty wound on his leg...blood pressure is...not much I can do until we..."
"...about dismantling the...?"
"No sir, not unless...or we abandon the team on 128."
"Danny?" Jack's voice brought Daniel's attention back down. "Can ya...get 'em to speak...up? I can't...hear."
"Don't worry, Jack. We'll take care of it."
"'m not worried," Jack mumbled, but Daniel's ears were back on the conference.
Hammond finished giving some instructions to Carter and Ferretti and then came over to Jack. Awkwardly he got down on one knee. Fraiser moved to the other side, her expression grim as she prepared to insert an IV.
"Colonel, as I'm sure you're aware, you're in a pretty tight situation," began Hammond.
"I've done the...pinned in the...gate room thing," said Jack. "Not as...fun...second time 'round."
"Son, we can't do what's necessary to extract you until we've finished getting those folks off P7C-128."
"Understood, sir," Jack said when he caught his breath.
Hammond shook his head. "I'm not sure you do, Jack."
Well, if Jack hadn't already been worried, he sure was now.
"Sir...we have to...help those...folks. I do...understand."
Hammond gave a curt nod and gripped Jack's shoulder before standing. As he moved away, Jack saw Sam standing just behind. At first he thought she was angry, her jaw so clenched and her expression so stormy. But he thought he saw a glistening in her eyes that betrayed her fear.
"Sam..." he breathed too soft to be heard over Hammond's order.
"Major, we need communications established with SG-6. Let's try to move things along as quickly as possible."
"Sir."
Then she was gone. Jack sighed.
"Colonel," said Fraiser to get his attention. "When the gate reactivates it's probably going to..."
Just then the inner circle began spinning and a distant klaxon sounded.
"Hurt," grunted Jack through clenched teeth.
*****
Major Davis was on the phone to the Pentagon when Major Carter returned to the control room. The inner wheel of the gate was just beginning to spin and Davis could see from this vantage that Colonel O'Neill was in very bad shape, worsened by the vibrations of the gate's operation.
Carter had a headset on and fingers flying over the keyboard before she'd even sat down. Davis felt that she probably wasn't even aware of her muttering, too low for others in the room to hear but clear enough for his ears.
"...all the stupid, bone-headed, self-sacrificing, macho bullshit stunts...enough, just engage already..."
The latter he thought was directed at the gate; the former, he couldn't be sure but figured that O'Neill's predicament probably played a role.
The gate splurged open, again offering a glow to the otherwise darkened room. The ripples played off of the worried expression on Doc Fraiser's face as she bent over O'Neill's prone body. Carter seemed to hesitate, watching them, but then O'Neill raised an arm slightly, only to have it flop back down uselessly by his side. Carter let out a breath of relief and returned her attention to the console.
Davis finished his report with a curt, "Thank you, sir." He then sat back down next to Carter. "What can I do to help, Major?"
"See if you can raise Lieutenant Caine on the comm," she replied. "I'm going to recalculate our maximum capacity without degradation."
Davis was surprised that she would consider putting more people into the wormhole than they'd previously calculated. Glancing once more down to the gate room floor, his surprise ebbed.
*****
"Just kill me now," mumbled Jack to Janet Fraiser. "That's an order."
"Sorry, Colonel," she said gently. "I'm going to have to respectfully disobey that one."
She worked swiftly, using Daniel's assistance, to set up a self-regulating dispenser that would help manage the colonel's pain. It was unfortunate that this hadn't been in place before the gate's activation, but there were too many variables out of her control. When the first dose hit his system, Jack visibly relaxed, his nerve endings dulling from agony into mere misery.
"That's...good stuff, doc," he told her. "Can I have...some more?"
She put the control mechanism into his hand. "You're in the driver's seat, Colonel. Or, if you feel too weak, get Daniel to push the button for you. Okay?"
"Roger...that," he acknowledged breathlessly with his eyes closed.
One of Janet's medics appeared then with the supplies she'd requested to help with the leg injury. She squeezed under the ramp to pack the wound more carefully. When refugees began to exit the gate once again Janet felt like they walked across her head.
"Whoa!" She scrambled out from the underneath, noting the colonel's increased distress at the pressure of those using the ramp.
"Easy, folks!" called Ferretti anxiously as he greeted the newcomers. "Let's get off the ramp as fast as possible."
Jack hit the button but it didn't seem to have any effect. He tried again, and again, until Daniel's hand gently removed the device.
"Jack, it's not going to give you any more for now. You have to wait a bit."
"Right," he agreed hoarsely. "Got...nothin' better...to do anyway."
The footsteps of those walking across the galaxy settled into a rhythm and, convinced that O'Neill wasn't going into shock, Janet finally eased herself back under the ramp to continue her ministrations.
*****
"Lieutenant!" called Sam into her mic. "Tell those people to tread carefully on the ramp when they get over here. We've got a man trapped under there!"
Even over the distorted video transmission Caine's face looked pained.
"Major, you can have it fast or you can have it gentle, but you can't have it both ways."
Sam exchanged a glance with Davis whose expression mirrored her own worry.
"Roger that. Let's stick with fast then, Lieutenant," she said.
"Given that the first batch had to be cut short," Davis began, "we'll probably have to do a third one."
"Maybe not," she disagreed. "We're moving more people at a time in this batch so we might just get them all this time around."
Sam didn't want to contemplate what another round of opening the gate would do to Jack. Even from this distance she'd been aware of his suffering. At least now Janet had him on some kind of painkillers.
She looked down on the gate room, oblivious to the steady stream of battered and lost souls pouring from the wormhole. She only saw Jack, stuck in a torturous position, injured and in pain because of her inability to properly prepare. She knew it was pointless to blame herself and she further knew that it would never occur to Jack to direct guilt in her direction. That didn't stop her conscience from pricking her viciously with the knowledge that the beam cutting off his air had been one she'd brought into the room and not secured effectively.
Get a grip, Sam, she told herself angrily. Another minute of this and you're going to lose it totally and be weeping all over Davis's computer terminal.
She couldn't help but hear in her mind words she'd flung accusingly at Jack just two days ago. Yet this "heartless bastard" had risked himself and ended up pinned under the ramp for the sake of a child's toy.
*****
Daniel felt somewhat abandoned by both Janet Fraiser, who'd been reluctantly forced back to the infirmary, and Teal'c, whose strength had been required for stretcher bearing. Janet had left Daniel with stern instructions on dealing with the tourniquet she'd put on Jack's leg. Jack had slipped into a dozy state where he wasn't talking much and not making a lot of sense when he did speak. He was still experiencing serious pain, Daniel could tell, even though he'd maxed out on the demerol.
Daniel watched the progress of the refugees with mounting resentment towards their seemingly callous stomping on the metal ramp. Each step sent vibrations rattling downward, some so heavy that Jack would shiver or twitch. Ferretti was doing his best, but these folks were escaping a horror of their own.
"How...long...?" Jack asked.
"It's been about 24 minutes," Daniel told him before realizing that Jack hadn't finished asking his question.
"...do ya...think it'd've...taken us to...to get the 49ers...here?"
Daniel blinked. "Ah, um, I don't know for sure exactly. It was a much smaller community so it probably could have been done in one batch. You'd have to ask Sam for a more exact calculation..." He stopped abruptly when he realized he was babbling.
Jack seemed to accept his estimate and lapsed into silence.
"You know," began Daniel somewhat awkwardly, "I may have been a little, um, well, possibly a bit over, ah, critical. The other day, I mean, when I suggested that you, ah, that you didn't do all you could have on 249."
Jack's eyes opened fully to look fuzzily up at Daniel. Despite his circumstances a small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "That whatcha...call...an apology?"
"Well, I, ah..." Daniel sighed. "Yes. Yes, it is. I'm sorry."
"No," countered Jack. "You're just...feeling bad...'cause I'm stuck...like this."
"Jack," protested Daniel.
"Hey, don't...apologize for...wanting to help...those folks," Jack said. "I'm the one...who messed that...up, not you. Maybe if I hadn't then..."
"Then what?" prompted Daniel when Jack's voice died.
For a moment Jack said nothing. Then he whispered one word. "Karma."
Before Daniel could protest again, this time to tell Jack that his present circumstances had nothing to do with his previous actions, Jack reached up to clutch at his sleeve.
"Daniel, get the beam...get it...get it off....'s hard...to breathe."
Daniel examined his friend with alarm. "Jack, the beam is off. We propped it up already."
It took Jack awhile to formulate a response this time, mostly because it was getting harder and harder to take a breath. It felt like a weight was settling on his chest and in his pain-filled delirium he'd assumed the beam was sitting there. Since that wasn't the case, Jack tried to articulate another reason. But what came out was, "Get Sam...please..."
*****
Sam wondered exactly when she'd acquired the ability to so detach her true self from what she was doing. Was it a blessing or a curse that she could continue to operate in normal mode when she'd really rather be allowed an emotional release? She was like some kind of double redundant server backup that kept the whole base running when the primary systems failed. And she hated it.
She hated that she had to calmly sit next to Paul Davis, someone who had the privilege of expressing his concern over Colonel O'Neill's state of health, and continue to compute safety parameters to transmit to Caine. She resented that her role in this operation was one of mathematical calculation instead of offering comfort and support. That role fell on Daniel whom she could see talking to Jack. If he was talking then things were fine, things were fine...
What really irritated Sam was that this wasn't a role she'd lost to Daniel. Rather it was one she'd never legitimately had. This wasn't because of the harsh words she'd thrown at Jack the other day - thrown at him and then walked away, she reminded herself with sharp pangs of guilt. No, the reason she was kept from her place by his side at this time was because of how they'd chosen to play out their relationship.
It was your idea, Samantha, she remembered. You convinced him.
*****
They were on Jack's deck in the early evening enjoying the warmth of summer. Jack was barbecuing, standing by the flaming grill with tongs in one hand and a beer in the other, looking so ordinary. Sam sat on the lounge holding an icy beer with both hands, studying him intently. Yes, he was the same guy who'd pulled their fat from the fire with such efficiency so many times. Yet he was also a relaxed grill chef who'd spent the afternoon cutting the lawn and washing the deck.
Sam suddenly wondered if he ever felt like Clark Kent.
Jack tapped the tongs absently on the side of the barbecue and then swung to face her.
"You know, Carter," he began.
Sam realized with no uncertainty what he was about to say. Maybe it was the way he rattled off her last name or his stance but he'd shifted back into military man and commanding officer. He was going to suggest that the best way to deal with things would be for him to either transfer posts or, God forbid, resign.
"There's only one way to deal with this, Jack," she interrupted, "and that's to treat it like a covert operation."
A flash of irritation at being cut off flitted across his face and then he did a double take.
"'xcuse me?"
"It's very simple," she explained. "It's a part of your life you share with no one except those directly involved."
"Damn it Carter, I think I know the meaning of the word covert. Hell, my whole life is one black op!" He fiddled with the tongs. When he spoke again his voice was gentle. "I guess I just thought...well, it'd be nice to have something going on that I could brag about with the neighbours."
Sam smiled at the idea of being his bragging rights. Part of her thought she should be insulted but somehow coming from him it seemed flattering.
"I'm willing to forego the bragging to keep the team intact."
He returned her smile briefly but worry creased his forehead. "You really think we can pull this off?"
"Of course," she responded swiftly, to convince herself as much as him. "How much harder can it be than keeping the secret we already hide?"
He didn't point out that in this case they'd be hiding in plain sight of all who knew the other classified areas of their lives.
"Unless...you're not up to the challenge, sir," she said cheekily. "I bet I can keep it secret longer than you."
"Not up to it my..." he spluttered indignantly. "I'll have you know, Carter, that I could teach courses in believable lying!"
She gave him the most innocent look she could muster without bursting out laughing. His eyes narrowed.
"Sneaky!" he snapped, turning to flip the steaks. But when he looked back at her he was grinning. "I like that."
*****
Sam was jolted out of her memory by movement from Daniel. He inclined his head slightly, a very subtle gesture but Sam had been working with him long enough to understand as though he'd yelled aloud. He wanted her there. Jack wanted her there.
She stood and offered curt instructions to Davis, who took them stoically and even gave her a sympathetic look that she completely missed as she bolted for the door.
Daniel met her part way, mumbled something about Jack's breathing and headed in the direction of the infirmary to get help.
Sam clambered over the fallen beam to crouch on Jack's far side. His breathing was laboured, she noticed right away; it was much worse than it had been.
"Colonel?" she said to get his attention. "Daniel's gone to get you some help."
He opened his eyes to stare at her as if not quite believing she was real. "No time," he wheezed.
His arm jerked up suddenly, alarming her as she though perhaps he was starting to seize, but he only struggled to find his way out of the blanket to clutch at her t-shirt. She reached down to pull his fingers gently from the cloth and entwine them in her own. Despite having been under the blanket, his hand was cold.
"Don't worry, sir," she told him. "Davis and I did some recalculating. We're taking some risks but we're moving people faster and it won't be long now, I promise."
He shook his head either denying her words or not believing them. "No time," he repeated. He gripped her fingers hard, surprising her with his strength. "Sam, sor...sorry. Don't...don't...be mad." Her alarm grew and it must have shown because he squeezed her hand again. "Don't be mad...please."
"I'm not," she said hastily.
He relaxed so completely, so quickly after hearing her that she feared he'd stopped breathing altogether. But an instant later his muscles were tense once more with the effort to intake oxygen. His whole body seemed to shudder and a low moan escaped him on the exhale.
"Sam?" he whispered, confused. She wondered if he'd somehow forgotten she was there.
"It's going to be okay," she said reassuringly.
He gave an approximation of a laugh, which rapidly degenerated into a cough. His eyes squeezed shut.
"I know it's a bit uncomfortable," she went on desperately, "but it won't be much longer."
"No. It won't," he agreed "God, it hurts."
She gripped his icy fingers and rubbed them with her other hand, feeling helpless and afraid.
"I wanted...to save...those folks," he said, gasping. "I'm sorry...sorry it made...made you leave...upset you...didn't mean...upset you."
"Colonel, don't worry about that now," she pleaded with him.
"Please." His fingers twitched in hers. "Forgive me."
It was like a physical blow to the gut it so effectively knocked the air from her lungs. Colonel Jack O'Neill was a never say die man. If there was doom, gloom, or it can't be done he didn't want to hear it. He didn't accept inevitable defeat and he wouldn't allow those under him to dwell on the impossibilities of survival. For him to be using precious oxygen to try to extract forgiveness from her could only mean one thing.
"No," she said sternly.
He looked so shocked, so hurt, she nearly crumbled. She wanted nothing more than to give him comfort at this time, to hold his hand to her heart, or kiss his cheeks, to tell him she'd forgive him anything to give him some measure of release from his pain. But she was afraid if she did so he'd give up and leave her. She needed him to fight.
"No sir," she repeated. "I'm not prepared to forgive you yet because we've got unfinished business and when this is all over we'll have a chat and then we'll talk about forgiveness, sir!"
His expression changed to disappointment and he moved his head to one side away from her. She disengaged one hand from his to pull him back by the chin.
"Don't you turn away from me, Colonel! Don't you leave! Not now. Not like this."
"I can't..." He gulped in air.
"Ah, ah!" She held up a finger. "I don't want to hear about can't."
"Oh Carter...you know...I...y'know..."
"The only thing I know is that we're going to get through this together, sir!"
She reached under his neck to support his head, trying to assist with his difficulty in catching his breath. "Not much longer, not much longer," she whispered.
His only response was a sigh.
*****
Janet was at a point where she thought that not only did she have things well in hand but they weren't nearly as bad as she'd expected. Some broken bones, a few nasty cuts, a couple of shock victims -- really it could have been so much worse.
Then she spotted Daniel wedging his way in past the collection of patients crowding the infirmary. His expression, more so than his presence, alerted her to a new problem. She handed off her current patient, who needed stitches on the right forearm, to a nurse and moved towards her cabinet of supplies.
"Colonel O'Neill?" she guessed when Daniel finally made it to her side.
"Ah, yeah. He's...he's not doing so well. I think you should come."
Janet thrust the kit into his hands and led the way back to the gate room. She found O'Neill in some respiratory distress with Sam attempting futilely to assist by holding his head back.
"Let's get some oxygen started," Janet said, stepping carefully closer. "And let's get some more light in here."
Sam moved to sit by the colonel's head, leaving his hand exposed on the floor. Janet inspected his fingers and noted the bluish tinged on his lips and she frowned more severely.
Daniel had extracted the portable oxygen from the kit and Sam fit the mask on O'Neill's face gently. Janet started the flow and then yanked her stethoscope over her head to put it in her ears.
"How's that?" she asked. "A little better?"
Jack was taking short gasps, his whole neck straining with the effort. Janet could see no improvement with the increased oxygen. "I wish we could support him on an incline," she muttered. "It would help."
There was a lot of noise in the gate room, what with refugees pouring from the active event horizon, but Janet's ears heard only Jack's heart and the sound of air as his lungs laboured to suck it in and push it out again.
Suddenly it wasn't his breathing that had her so concerned. She sat upright abruptly from her examination of his chest and scrambled over the beam to get at the open medical kit. Daniel, who'd been poised to hand to her whatever necessary pulled back in alarm.
"Whaaa...?"
She ignored him as her hands reached into the pack and quickly sorted through various implements, rejecting several before finding what she needed. Just as quickly she maneuvered back over to Jack and knelt beside him. Using scissors to help her start, she ripped his t-shirt straight up the middle, exposing the beginnings of a radiating bruise on his chest.
"Janet?" Sam was unsuccessful at hiding her anxiety over the doctor's actions.
Janet didn't reply directly. "Get that lamp over here!" she snapped at Daniel, who hastened to comply. "Colonel, you're going to feel some pressure in your chest, quite likely more pain, but I'm going to do this as quickly as possible." Janet felt obliged to at least warn him even though O'Neill seemed beyond comprehension.
Janet ripped open a package with her teeth and hesitated, holding the needle just above Jack's sternum. 'If I'm wrong...' she fretted to herself and then clamped down on that insecurity. She wasn't wrong.
With steady hands, she inserted the needle between the ribs, slowly, carefully, smoothly, into the pericardium around Jack's heart.
"My...God..." spluttered Daniel with shock.
"Janet!" Sam's anxiety was full blown as she watched her friend draw back on the needle. The syringe filled with dark red.
"Contusion to the heart," murmured Janet, not taking her eyes off her procedure. "I need to relieve the pressure."
Sam winced and looked down at Jack's face. He'd lost consciousness but she still held his head with both hands, her thumbs coming to rest gently on the oxygen mask. Time suspended itself, with Jack's blood pouring into the syringe and his heart struggling to pump. Then in the space between one heartbeat and the next, time snapped back into place.
Caine's team came flying through the gate, the lieutenant landing at Ferretti's feet after a clumsy roll down the ramp. "That's the last of them, sir," he gasped as the gate snapped shut.
Ferretti spared Caine not a second's glance before yelling at a group of Marines, newly returned from escort duties. "Let's get this ramp off the Colonel and double time!"
*****
There was a room off the SGC infirmary that served a multitude of purposes. It stored medical kits, it provided a private examination space, it held overflow patients. At the moment it was a waiting area.
Teal'c stood at parade rest looking like a man prepared to stay the course. It was not an uncomfortable stance and he somehow gave off the appearance of being relaxed yet ready to spring into motion at the same time.
Sam, on the other hand, sat rigidly beside him, her entire body as stiff as a statue. She exuded brittleness in such a way that it seemed she might burst into thousands of pieces at any moment. She didn't move; she barely breathed.
Daniel was in perpetual motion as he paced the small area without purpose. His hands fidgeted, absently picking up stray medical equipment only to put them down again, oblivious to his actions.
So they were when Major Davis found them to give Sam a report on the probe on 128. She acknowledged his information but retained none of it. Davis lingered in the doorway, wishing to offer comfort or condolences but then he left as though knowing neither would be well received.
Shortly thereafter Janet walked in, holding up her hands before they could pounce.
"He's alive," she said.
Sam tipped her head back to hit the hard concrete with a thump and closed her eyes, offering thanks.
"The cut on his leg was very deep," continued Janet, "but no damage done to the artery which was a relief."
"Um," Daniel spoke up like he wasn't sure he wanted to ask. "What about that uh, that needle? You know, the one you, you, the one you put into his heart?"
Sam shivered.
"The colonel must have taken a severe blow to the chest when that beam fell on him," explained Janet. "The result was a hemorrhage -- a bruise if you will -- around his heart. As blood filled the space between the heart and the pericardium it compromised the heart's ability to pump. It made it hard for him to breathe and caused him great pain."
"So...the needle?" Daniel winced.
"The needle drew off the blood and created space. Without it..."
"His heart would have stopped," concluded Sam.
"Yes," Janet confirmed. "But we've put in a tube now, to ensure it continues to drain and we're monitoring it closely."
"Monitoring?" questioned Daniel.
"Hopefully the source of the bleeding has stopped but if not we'll have to go in and repair it."
"Oh."
"Can we see him?" asked Sam.
"He's not awake," Janet warned. She sighed and looked at the floor trying not to see their expressions. "But if it will reassure you, you can take a moment."
Sam's gratitude was plainly evident and voiced aloud by Daniel's heartfelt "Thanks." Even Teal'c looked relieved.
They filed in slowly, aware of the busy activity in the infirmary even at this late hour. Jack was being tended by a nurse, who flipped a blanket over his bandaged leg as they approached. He was lying on an incline, breathing slow and steady through an oxygen mask. There was the usual IV, its innocuous tubing trailing upwards to the drip. More disturbing was the tube taped to his chest, with the white of the bandage a stark contrast to the dark bruising there.
Sam saw and heard nothing in the infirmary except him. Her sensory perception narrowed like a tunnel until all she could see was the bruise, the tube, the slight twitch of his hand, and the paleness of his skin. All she heard was the oxygen flow and the blips of the heart monitor.
She was snapped from this daze by Janet's voice. Sam half turned to look at the doctor while she could still see Jack.
"What did you say? Moving? Why?" More of her anxiety showed than she would have liked.
"He's stable now," Janet said gently. "But I want him in a facility better equipped to handle complications. We're sending him over to the Academy hospital shortly."
Sam cleared her throat and took a breath. "Complications?"
"I'm not anticipating problems, Sam. I just want the best people around to help if we need to go into his chest."
"Of course," Sam murmured and turned back to the bed.
She knew he was unaware of her presence but she wanted so much to take his hands. She remembered how cold they'd been on the gate room floor. He was probably still cold.
"Everyone's exhausted and could use sleep," put in Janet. "Why don't you go on home? The colonel will be well entrenched in the hospital come morning, probably complaining about the food if I know him."
Sam gave no indication she'd heard. Janet inclined her head in Sam's direction and nudged Daniel.
"What? Oh!" Daniel looked at Sam and then at Jack. He coughed a little. "Uh, Sam. I don't suppose you could give me a ride?"
"Well, I..."
"'Cause you see," rushed on Daniel before she could refuse, "Jack drove me in this morning, or whenever that was, and what with all the transport going on all day...it's on your way really, so I'd really appreciate if you could..."
"Sure," interrupted Sam to stop the tide. "No problem."
She gave Jack one last look, as though memorizing every detail and then strode from the room. Daniel murmured thanks again to Janet, patted Teal'c on the arm, and followed.
*****
Sam was clearly distracted, Daniel found. He felt he should be grateful for this as it meant she didn't even notice when they walked right by his car in the parking lot. At the same time, he was a little concerned about her ability to drive. Still, she seemed capable of stopping at the checkpoint and staying in her lane down the mountain so he gradually relaxed.
"You know, we have a lot to feel good about today," he said to break the silence in the car.
Sam stared at him like he'd grown another head.
"Oh I don't mean about what happened to Jack! That was...a little freaky, I'll admit." He suppressed a shudder at the memory of Janet and that needle. "But he'll be fine. I meant we should feel good about helping those people from 128."
"I don't feel very good about today," Sam confessed quietly.
"I don't know why not," Daniel pressed on. "I mean, we actually reached out a helping hand for no other reason than because we could do it and it was right. And they accepted the hand we offered! There was no other battle to fight, no alliances made, nothing at all to be gained except the satisfaction of helping people. That doesn't happen very often. Not often enough," he added. "What's not to feel good about that?"
"If I'd been able to secure that beam then the colonel wouldn't have been hurt," Sam said matter-of-factly.
"Uh, okay. But look at it this way. If that extra protection hadn't been there we might have lost the entire room. And if Jack had been where he was supposed to be, that is to say at the end of the ramp instead of on the far side, then he wouldn't have been hurt."
Sam was quiet as she turned onto Daniel's street and pulled up near the door to his building. She put her car in park and then faced him.
"Yes, but then he wouldn't have had the satisfaction of helping a child, for no reward but her smile. Not for gain but because he could and it was right."
Daniel reached out to take her hand, giving it a little squeeze. "He'll be okay." When she nodded, he pulled away and opened the door. "Thanks for the ride, Sam. Try to get some sleep, okay?"
Daniel watched her drive away, still mildly concerned about her distraction, and not at all sure how he was going to get to the base in the morning.
****
Sam was grateful for the near deserted streets, which allowed her to pay less attention to driving than was probably wise. She drove slowly down the quiet street and parked, shutting off the engine before she even realized where she was. She let out a groan and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel. Then she peered up at the dark house. Her distraction had put her on autopilot, which is how she'd ended up here instead of at her apartment as she'd intended. Here being Jack's house -- their home.
There really was no question of starting the car and continuing her journey. Not only was she too exhausted for the trip but now she wanted to be here. Janet had rather cleverly thrown Sam out when all she wanted was to sit by Jack's side until he woke up. Sam had known that to fight Janet on this would have meant shedding light in an area best kept in darkness. If she couldn't have Jack then she'd be close to him in another way.
She entered the house and dropped her keys on the table without turning on the lights. She stepped down into the living room and stood in the dark, silent house and thought about Jack. He was all around her, in the photos on the mantle, in the diplomas on the wall, the hockey stick propped up in the corner, the sweatshirt tossed over the back of a chair, the chessboard left in mid-game. She turned slowly, her eyes growing accustomed to the shadows, looking around their home, and sought comfort from the day's stress in memories.
Her gaze focused on a framed print on the wall that Jack had purchased shortly after they'd begun living together. And that's exactly what they were doing, no matter how much she denied it outwardly, no matter how many things they put in place to pretend it wasn't so.
Sam had an apartment where she paid rent; it gave her an address to receive mail. She had a phone number and voice mail and a cell phone that allowed her to pick up calls when she wasn't at the apartment. Personal items decorated her space and it was kept clean. You really had to look carefully to know that no one lived there.
In Jack's house Sam's presence was kept to a low profile. This was at Sam's insistence and so she'd objected when Jack brought the print home. It was not something Jack would buy for himself and she'd told him so.
*****
Jack eyed the new addition to the wall critically and then reached out to nudge one corner up slightly.
"That's crazy," he said. "I did buy it. And now, having bought it, I'm hanging it on my wall."
Sam cocked her head. "Now, see, I was thinking it looks more like something I'd buy and hang on my wall."
Jack's expression was simple, wide-eyed innocence. "How 'bout that! Gosh, what an influence you've had on me, Carter."
"Don't be dense," she said, a little sharply.
His expression changed to mock offence and he placed his hands on his heart. "You wound me." H turned back to adjust the print again. "You know Sam, I wouldn't have to make these out of character purchases if you'd bring over some of your own stuff."
"You know why I can't do that," she said, frowning.
"No, I don't, frankly." When she opened her mouth he held up a finger. "Ah! I know why you think you can't, but I don't agree with you."
"Jack, we need to keep up the appearance of living in separate homes. It's hard to do that if my belongings are decorating your house!"
Jack looked at his feet and then back at her. He sighed. "It wouldn't take a forensics expert to find the evidence you live here, Sam. This facade we've built is really very flimsy."
"But it's working," she insisted. "And it will continue to work as long as we're diligent."
They'd been very lucky so far, she had to admit. Even Daniel, who by nature and profession was both curious and observant, hadn't seen through their illusion.
"Okay, we'll do it you way. But this print is staying on the wall. I happen to like it," he said with a tone that told her further discussion would not change his mind. He stepped back, finally satisfied that it was hanging straight.
As she moved to walk towards the kitchen his soft voice made her pause. "And Sam? When we get caught, it won't be the props that tripped us up."
She didn't respond.
*****
The truth was, as she stared at the source of their argument, she really appreciated all the things Jack had done to make her feel that this was their home. No matter how much she'd tried to convince him otherwise he insisted that folks see what they want to and what was going to give them away was not an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, but an inappropriate display of affection.
How right he was, Sam thought sadly. She'd been so close to losing it today. So close to showing more fear, more tenderness, more anger than was proper for her CO.
She wasn't sure, given a similar scenario, if she'd be able to do it again. But if he died without her being able to acknowledge their love, how could she live with that?
Sam sat on the couch with an undignified thump. The situation was untenable. It couldn't work. He'd been right to question their ability to pull it off. What was she thinking?
Options spread before her in her mind, like playing cards as she dealt herself a hand. They could openly admit their relationship and face the consequences, which at the very least would mean the separation of SG1 but might even involve a court martial.
That card was not acceptable and she discarded it immediately.
She could request a transfer from SG1, maybe even to something that would keep her in the lab full time. This would mean breaking up a highly successful working unit. It also meant she'd have to remain behind while they pranced across the galaxy getting into God knows what kind of trouble without her there to provide backup or answers.
That just wasn't going to happen. Another card tossed in the pile.
Jack could resign. He'd done it before for personal reasons. Not only would that also break up SG1, but it would deprive the SGC of an extraordinary leader; one who'd made close contacts with allies like the Asgard. It would mean Jack would be left to wait for her return. Knowing his impatience and his protective instincts, that wouldn't be a workable solution either.
Three for three in the discard pile.
They could stop what they were doing altogether. She could move back into her apartment taking all of her belongings and removing her essence from his house. Their relationship would be strictly professional -- two officers working well together. The team would be intact. They'd back each other up. No secret, no hiding, no love.
No way. Sam buried her face in her hands. She wouldn't be able to stop, not now. And she had a hunch that Jack would strenuously object to such a proposal.
Which only left one card in the hand. They could continue on the path they'd chosen.
*****
Jack was cold. So cold and he had been that way for so long his mind got hung up trying to figure it out. So cold that all of his awareness seemed to focus solely on that one fact.
But gradually other things seeped in beyond the cold. Rather than clarify his situation these only seemed to further confuse him. It hurt to breathe and felt like a weight had taken up residence on his chest.
The only conclusion his befuddled brain could make was that he'd been buried in the avalanche on 249. And only fitting too, given the outcome of that mission. But what was the outcome? Had he gotten the other team members out? Jack had a moment of panic thinking that his teammates might be somewhere close by, as cold and hurt as he was, and there was nothing he could do to change that.
Yet...something told him Sam had gotten away. She'd left; he could see it in his mind's eye, a memory of her walking away and leaving him behind. Something about that didn't seem right but he couldn't remember exactly what had happened.
Self-preservation dictated that he make some effort to move, to dig himself out of the situation whatever it was, but he was so tired that even making a decision seemed too taxing.
Somewhat contradicting his conclusion that he was underneath a wall of snow, Jack could hear a voice. At first it didn't have much form but as Jack concentrated he realized it was Daniel. But what the devil was he going on about now?
"...many references to craftsmen...artisan class was still a...methods of work were simple, and there was no..."
It sounded to Jack, in his fuzzy state, that Daniel was delivering a lecture of some kind, punctuated with snorts of disbelief and the occasional editorial comment. Jack tried to follow the voice up from the dark and cold.
"...were the humblest and most downtrodden class in the social scale of the period, if class is an appropriate word to use for a group whose origins must have been very diverse. Gee, ya think so? Whatever gave you that idea?" Daniel cleared his throat. "Anyway, where was I? Right, um, one can only guess at these origins -- descendants of earlier inhabitants who had been dispossessed by immigrants, runaway slaves, people expelled from some kinship organization, refugees from a blood feud -- their unhappy condition is well documented...which is why, I suppose, you're choosing to document it again perhaps?" He sighed.
Jack opened his eyes to see a hazy muted whiteness that gradually came into focus. Ah. A hospital then. Well, that sure beat at the bottom of snow-engulfed cavern. Mind you, Jack had no illusions that the devil couldn't come up with a very personal version of hell for each sinner. Being confined to a hospital bed, in pain, with Daniel Jackson reciting the history of Ancient Greece had to rank right up there in the O'Neill top ten list of Underworlds Best Avoided.
Jack opened his mouth to interrupt the lesson but no sound came out. Daniel was still unaware his audience had regained consciousness and so continued to read. Jack tilted his head in his companion's direction to see that Jackson was obviously well entrenched, with a ready source of reading material, a grande size coffee, and a slouch into his uncomfortable chair that said he'd been at it awhile.
"...employed for various purposes, especially in busy agricultural seasons. They were available also for tasks which had no connection to the land. Well, that's just a brilliant deduction! Especially since it is well-known that they weren't employed at all but rather enslaved when..." Daniel fumbled with the book a bit to flip to the author's credentials. "No wonder," he mumbled.
He flipped back to his page. "To continue on, let's see, no let's skip that part; the inaccuracies will only give me high blood pressure. Okay, picking up from, um, when Odysseus meets the shade...Yes, okay, when Odysseus meets the shade of Achilles in the underworld, Achilles, wishing to emphasize that the worst lot on earth was better than the grimness of the lot of the dead, says, 'I would rather...' Jack, you're awake!"
The expression on his friend's face at noticing Jack's attention would have made the colonel laugh, had he not been certain of the discomfort such an action would cause. Daniel practically leapt from his chair, dumping the offensively inaccurate Critical History of Ancient Greece at his feet and barely keeping grasp on the coffee.
"Whatcha doin'?" whispered Jack.
Daniel, having sufficiently recovered from his shock at seeing Jack's eyes open, took stock of the monitors on the far side of the bed and decided that if anything bad was happening with his friend's heart then something more ominous would be sounding from them. He sat back in his chair with a sigh.
"I was, uh, I was reading." Daniel gave a shy grin. "I figured it would be a good time to teach you something without having you tell me to shut up." He decided the grimace on Jack's face had more to do with the discovery of all the tubes attached to him than with anything he said. "Besides, I thought, you know, maybe...well, I just figured it couldn't hurt any and, um, it might...help...a little."
"Thanks," Jack said, letting him off the hook.
*****
As Janet had predicted it didn't take long for Jack to become bored and irritated with his situation. It was bad enough to be in a hospital, never mind being tied down by so many contraptions stuck to him and in him. It was enough to drive a sane man to drink, he thought. Wait, that was a mixed cliche...
Jack much preferred the hazy state the high levels of painkillers had put him in. While it was not a comfortable place for a man who liked to be in control at least he wasn't aware enough to really care.
Daniel had finally been convinced to leave off his history lessons and Teal'c had only tolerated Jack's bad mood long enough to inquire if there was anything required. Upon hearing a resounding negative to that, he'd bowed and retreated to the safety of Cheyenne Mountain. So Jack was left alone save the ICU nurse who'd been monitoring all his various tubes and wires, not to mention his temperature and blood pressure, at an annoying frequency.
Just when Jack was feeling like maybe something had happened to his major that no one wanted to mention to him in his current fragility, Sam walked in. She entered tentatively, either warned by the others of his foul mood, or checking to be sure he was awake. Jack visibly relaxed at the sight of her, unaware until that moment how much of his tension had been due to her absence.
"Sir, it's good to see you looking better." She stood at parade rest apart from the bed, close to his feet.
"Everything is relative, Major," he grumbled. "I don't really feel good enough for it to qualify as better."
"Then you'll have to trust me on this, sir," she said softly.
Jack fidgeted uncomfortably with his fingers, wishing he could do something to draw her closer to him but realizing that the openness of the hospital room was not a good place for them to let slip their professional demeanor.
"I, uh, I dropped by your house, sir," she told him, shifting on her feet slightly. Absurdly she wanted to let him know she'd been there. "To check on your plants, and pick up your mail, that sort of thing."
"I understand you're very good at that sort of thing," he shot at her without thinking. "Picking up mail, I mean."
Sam stiffened. "Just trying to be helpful, sir," she said sharply.
"Yeah," he muttered and looked down to the tube in his chest.
Sam knew he was still feeling the effects of his injury and this coupled with general strain was making him cranky. She knew not to take it personally but it was hard. It was especially hard when she really wanted to sit close to him and offer comfort with her touch. But she held back, acutely conscious of the nurse sitting just behind her, within earshot.
"Colonel, I...there's something I want to say; it's about 249."
Jack raised his head to look at her stonily. "Then say it, Major."
Sam took a deep breath and unconsciously straightened her stance. "After the mission, I said some things in anger to you that I shouldn't have. They've been weighing on me heavily, sir, and I'm sorry. I was out of line and unnecessarily harsh. I hope you'll accept my apology." She held his gaze steadily, hoping to convey with her eyes what her mouth could not say. But she couldn't read his feelings in his expression and eventually cast her eyes down to her feet.
Jack gave a little sigh of frustration and rolled his head to the other side, toying with his IV tube for a moment. Then he looked back to her. "No."
Sam's head shot up, her face a picture of incredulity. She hadn't expected this. "No?" she repeated with amazement. "What do you mean no? Sir."
Jack gave her a tight smile. "I mean, no I won't accept your apology, Major. That's what I mean."
Sam was so shocked she could only splutter, "Why not?"
Instead of answering he snapped, "You and Daniel are both cut from the same cloth, you know that?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam's surprise was fast fading into annoyance.
"For crying out loud, you're the smart one, Carter, you figure it out," Jack said.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as her face melted into a classic Carter fed up with a superior expression. The kind of expression that usually had Jack thinking 'One of these days, O'Neill, you're gonna push her too far...'
Instead of waiting for his brain to catch up, his mouth opened and said, "While you're working on that, could you take some of these damn books of Daniel's outta here? The last thing I need is another round with Professor Jackson."
Sam immediately bent to collect a small pile of texts that rested at the base of the chair. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?" she asked coldly.
Oh so many things, Sam, you have no idea, thought Jack. "No, I think that about does it. Thanks, Carter."
"Glad you're feeling better, Colonel. I'll see you soon." Hugging the books close to her chest she spun about and exited the room.
"I'm not actually feeling any better!" he called after her, but he doubted she heard him. He balled up his hands into fists and pounded them back into the mattress, wincing both at the effort and his actions. Stupid, stupid O'Neill! Now you'll have to get Daniel to bring her back to visit so you can grovel.
Sam got all the way to the elevator and had even pressed the button before her anger caught up to her stunned disbelief at his behaviour. The audacity of that man! The childish petulance! The unbelievable insensitivity! When he, himself, had apologized for the very same thing when he could barely breathe!
Sam found herself pivoting around and marching back to his room as quickly as she'd left it. Jack looked up with surprise at her sudden return but she was so annoyed she missed the look of relief that flickered across his face.
"I know what this is about," she said. "This is because I didn't accept your apology earlier, isn't it? I had a very good reason for that! I thought you..." As if just realizing that there was someone else in the room, she abruptly lowered her voice and continued more calmly. "I thought that you needed something to fight for. Sir."
Jack soberly pondered her words, his eyes wandering the room. Then he regarded her with that deliberate denseness that he'd perfected to ensure people underestimated him. "You thought I'd cling to life in order to fight with you?"
"Don't be such a child, Colonel," she said, with a low tone.
"A child?" His eyebrows raised and he almost smiled. "I guess that's a step up from heartless bastard. Downright complimentary." Jack sighed. He gestured at the chair. "Take a seat, Major."
She glared at him for a moment's defiance and then very deliberately put down Daniel's books and sat.
"Sam, why did you apologize?"
"Because I was sorry," she said, sounding far too much like a disgruntled child for her liking given her recent insult to him.
"Sorry for what?" he prompted.
A hint of exasperation tinged her voice. "Sorry for yelling at you. Sorry for calling you a bastard."
"Well, I don't accept that," he said flatly. Before she could protest, he held up a finger for silence. "Sam, I don't want you to ever apologize to me for telling me how you feel. We've worked well together for a long time because we're honest with one another. I give the orders and you tell me why they won't work. It's a happy sort of relationship..." Jack looked away and cleared his throat getting serious once again. "Don't ever be sorry for telling me that I'd done something you thought was wrong."
"Colonel..."
"If you want to apologize to me for something, Carter, then be sorry that you left before we could resolve the issue," interrupted Jack. "That one I'll accept. Because I sure as hell am sorry I let you leave."
"Well, you didn't exactly let me, sir," Sam admitted. "I probably wouldn't have responded well to an ultimatum."
"What about an order?" he asked, with exaggerated curiosity.
Sam smiled a little and inclined her head, thinking. "Probably not one of those, either."
Uncomfortable with his admission and the feeling of helplessness it entailed, Jack fumbled with his blanket, not meeting her eyes. "For what it's worth, Sam, I wasn't entirely unaffected by what happened on 249. I was angry -- I'm still angry -- that we weren't able to do good there. And I blamed myself and I wondered if I could have done something else. But at the end of the day those folks made a choice and we have to respect it even if we hate it."
"Yes, sir," she agreed sadly.
After a moment of silence he looked up and ventured a joke. "Should I have Hammond draw up some treaty papers or are we still negotiating?" he asked.
Sam's breath caught in her throat. "I was so scared," she whispered.
"I know," he said swiftly.
Darting a glance over at the nurse, Sam added softly, "There were so many things I wanted to say and couldn't. Things I wanted to do but..."
"Sam." He stopped her. "I know."
She looked at him then with an intensity that took his breath away. Slowly a smile crept onto his face. "I know," he repeated. "Me too."
Finally, Jack felt the cold retreat and a warmth spread over him as she smiled.
She smiled, and the shadows departed;
She shone, and the snows were rain;
And he who was frozen-hearted
Bloomed up into love again.
(John Addington Symonds)
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