Title: GHOST STORY
Author: trynity7
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-1, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. © September 19, 2003
The album Brand New Day is by Sting and © 1999 A&M Records, Inc.
Category: Hurt/Comfort, Action, Drama, Smarm, Angst
Spoilers: Anything up to The Devil You Know, some specific mention of Children of the Gods, Cold Lazarus, Forever In A Day, Jolinar's Memories, The Devil You Know, Touchstone, and Enigma.
Rating: PG-13 for some language and mild gore/violence
Pairing: Jack/OFC (this is a very smarmy pairing – not exactly what one would call ship, but I thought I'd mention it)
Season: 3 – set just after The Devil You Know
Author's Note: Thanks to M&M for the phonetic translation of Arabic. Not an easy language to translate to English! Thanks also to Alex for his demolitions expertise. This is my first fanfiction ever. The songs are from Sting's album, Brand New Day (lyrics are really in the liner notes). Special thanks to my husband for reading and encouraging. Without him I would never have had the guts to write it, much less share it!
And finally special thanks to Holly for being the first stranger to read this and give me an informed and honest opinion of it. Her advice has made me a better writer. Her support has given me deeply needed encouragement. And her ideas have given me future stories!
Archived at: Jackfic, Heliopolis, and StargateFan
Summary: Jack encounters a mysterious woman searching for answers. Together they uncover a conspiracy. Can Jack finally find a way to deal with the ghosts of his past?
Ghost Story
"Would you be willing to follow me back to my lab? There is something there I would like to show you," the burly doctor said in hushed tones. His companion finished off a third glass of wine and ate one more bite of mousse. It had been a delectable dinner. The beautiful Israeli woman sat back, relishing the wonderful feeling of fullness from their delicious meal. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass of the window. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head with curls splashing around her face. It had been nice to have her hair done in a salon and to put on an expensive dress. Not something she was used to in her years of military service.
"Yes, I would be happy to follow you back to your lab. Shall we buy another bottle and drink it there?" She said in a flirty voice, thinking he meant to try and seduce her as payment for his cooperation.
"I have had enough wine," he said seriously. "There is more to what I must tell you, Captain." She put her napkin down and met his eyes. Their conversation had been more informative than she'd hoped. She felt like she was close to getting whatever clue she needed to find out what had happened to her Emil. Maybe the remaining bits were to be found in the lab.
"Let's go." They paid and left a tip on the table. She got into her car and he got into his. He pulled into the narrow street and she pulled away after him. She saw what looked like a car she'd seen on the way to the restaurant pull out a significant distance behind her and continue in the direction they were heading. She decided that they were probably being followed, but what remained to be seen was if they were being followed or if she was being followed.
They arrived at a small building with a loft. She followed the warm-faced rotund man up the stairs to the loft. The security to the entrance of the building was somewhat light, but it was a different story for the lab. There was a retinal scanner and a carded entry. Once they were inside he turned the lights on. She was impressed with how modern it was. Clearly he was well funded.
"Here is what I wanted to show you." She stepped around to the counter where he was standing, her high heels clicking noisily on the tile floor. There on the metal counter was a casing that contained what appeared to be the detonator of a bomb. It contained a timer and wiring, but it was not hooked up to anything that she could see. A few feet from the timer was a larger plexiglass container divided in two parts. One side contained a substance that looked very much like mercury. The other side had what appeared to be a light shining behind it. It glowed a lovely blue color and appeared to be active within its current liquefied state. It swirled and mixed in a mesmerizing pattern.
"What is this?" She pointed at the clear plexiglass container.
"It is a weapon," he told her.
"What does this have to do with Emil?"
"He was the first to study this substance here. He gave it its temporary name: SE201b." He pointed at the mercury-looking substance. "It was found by a team of men who are able to travel to other worlds. They are attempting to obtain technology to protect the Earth from a threat that is so terrible we are not even allowed to know what it is."
She scoffed at his words. It sounded as though he believed them, but surely this was some ploy to attempt to impress her. "You are joking."
"No, Captain, I am not." She studied the substances before her, but could not find the source of light that caused the one to glow.
They talked for another twenty minutes or so. He told her other things that she found impossible to believe, but at last she got her one final clue. Colorado Springs, Colorado. There was a mountain there where many secret things were going on. Maybe she would only find that Emil had been buried beneath it, but she would go to that mountain. She would find out what had been done to him.
Suddenly they weren't alone. Two men entered the room and from the looks of things they were in mortal danger.
"You have something that belongs to us," one of the men said in American English.
"You have not been honest with me," he replied. "You took this woman's husband and never returned him. Am I now to believe you will pay me what you owe and let me live out my days?" He put the timing device directly behind him and reached carefully for one connector that would link it to something wired beneath the metal table.
"It is of no consequence to us what you believe. You have done the planet a great service. But telling this woman of it will prove to be your undoing." The gray-suited man closest to her looked at her and said with deadly cold, "And ultimately yours as well, but we may yet have use for you."
*****
Jack had the CD player turned up in his truck. He'd been working so hard even his hair felt fatigued. This week was the first full week he'd gotten away from the base in more than a year. He'd been injured (again) on Netu and the experiences of that particular mission were not settling into their thoroughly-buried compartments kept for just such unloveliness with the typical snap he was accustomed to. After so many years of unpleasant experiences he expected to be able to compartmentalize without difficulty and without delay. He wanted desperately to drown out the noises (voices) and images burned into his brain with music, and then very soon beer. Many beers.
The mountainous pass to his house wound steadily up The Horn. Dr. Fraiser had required that Jack carry his cell phone with him and he'd been requested to check in every 24 hours, which he'd refused. General Hammond conceded the latter knowing just which battles to pick with his 2IC. Several years of working with the colonel had educated him on the best machinations for getting certain things accomplished with the man when he was being disagreeable.
He was listening to Sting. Jack had never really listened to his music after he went solo preferring instead the man's music from his years with The Police, but Daniel had given him a CD recently that had a song on it that meant something to the young man. He hadn't told Jack what song it'd been. He simply handed him the CD one day and said, "This is a really great CD. It's got a couple of really great songs…one in particular. If you like a little jazz you'll like this." Then he'd turned and walked out of Jack's office without another word about the unexpected gift, ever.
Jack had taken the disc home before listening to it. He was a little taken aback by the earnestness of Daniel's voice when he handed it to him. There was something he was trying to say without actually saying it. The colonel had become very good at reading his friend's body language when the brilliant doctor's skills as a linguist failed him, which they always did when he tried to talk about something intensely personal. But this particular moment had been an enigma to Jack until he got home and listened to a few songs on the album. It wasn't the first song, but he didn't have to wait long to figure out which song it was that had pierced Daniel's heart. The second song was called Desert Rose.
I dream of rain, I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain, I dream love as time runs through my hands
I dream of fire, these dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in the flames, her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire
This desert rose, each of her veils a secret promise
This desert flower, no sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this
And as she turns, this way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns, I realize that nothing's as it seems
I dream of rain, I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain, I dream of love as time runs through my hands
I dream of rain, I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes, this rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of her love
I dream of rain, I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain, I dream of love as time runs through my hand
Sweet desert rose, each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower, no sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this
Sweet desert rose, this memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower, this rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of the fall
Jack had listened to that song three times in a row. It was an intense composition. There were lyrics in the liner notes and he'd read the lyrics the second time around. There was no doubt in his mind that this song captured Daniel's thoughts in lyric and melody where the loss of his wife was concerned, with its sitars and driving string and profoundly Arabic essence. Sha're had been the garden in the desert sand of Daniel's life. No doubt Daniel felt she was little more than a shadow, so short a time did he have her. After the third listen Jack decided that he would mention that he liked the CD and see if Daniel would reveal any more about why he had chosen to share that particular album with Jack. He doubted it, and he wasn't going to press it. He'd been right. The next day at the base he casually mentioned he'd enjoyed the album and watched Daniel intently for anything his young friend would betray about why he wanted to share that with Jack. Daniel had given him a quick shy smile and nearly imperceptible nod and gone about his business.
Jack had left the CD unattended for a few days. That had been a couple of weeks before their trip to Netu. Daniel had been bearing up under the burden of grief that hung over him. Everyone worried, but no one wanted to speak for fear that they might shatter his carefully constructed façade with their words. It was clear that he was dealing with the death of his wife as best he could. Daniel seemed to be dealing with all the unfolding events in his life with a stillness that was hard to quantify. Since Sha're's death it seemed that Daniel didn't move as quickly as before (except in those moments when imminent peril necessitated haste - for someone who lacked formal military training Daniel moved with astonishing speed in combat), and Jack was betting that had nothing to do with any lasting effects of the ribbon device Amaunet had used on him. He was certain that the gentle archeologist had gathered his silence around himself and that subconsciously he was afraid if he moved too quickly he'd slip and the pain he was trying so hard to keep at bay would find a crack in the wall of stillness and seep in. This was something about which Jack knew all too well. His human wall was years thick and lifetimes deep.
That CD had been waiting for him when he got home one day just before they went to Netu. He grabbed a beer and instead of sitting down to watch ESPN he turned on his stereo and played the album through. The music had been varied and some of it was strange. Jack was not typically an eclectic sort except for when it came to music. He would usually listen to anything at least once through before making a decision. He liked the album, and this time there was surprise waiting for him. There was another song: one that grabbed Jack by the throat and threatened to tear open the place he'd shored up tears too numerous to count over the years.
I watched the western sky, the sun is sinking
The geese are flying south, it sets me thinking
I did not miss you much, I did not suffer
What did not kill me, just made me tougher
I felt the winter come, his icy sinews
Now in the firelight, the case continues
Another night in court, the same old trial
The same old questions asked, the same denial
The shadows close me round, like jury members
I look for answers in, the fire's embers
Why was I missing then, that whole December
I gave my usual line, I don't remember
Another winter comes, His icy fingers creep
Into these bones of mine, these memories never sleep
And all these differences, a cloak I borrowed
We kept our differences, why should it follow that
I must have loved you?
He'd listened to the song, but couldn't finish it. He'd come to love the album, but that one song was something he didn't think he'd ever listen to again. So he would listen to the album sometimes in his truck on the drive to or from work but never that song. He would always just reach down and skip that one when it would come on.
Like today. He was listening to it as the quirky song about a boy working at a gas station was coming to an end. He reached over to hit the forward button on the CD player, but his bag was in the way. Jack pushed at the bag, but it wouldn't move enough to allow his finger access to the button. He leaned over to get some leverage and lifted the bag from its position on the floor in front of the dash console. He twisted slightly to set the bag on the seat in a position of relative stability. Then he glanced down long enough to orient himself to the location of the buttons on the CD console. That was all the time it took.
He'd driven these roads enough that the tightness of the curves was as familiar to him as any road he'd ever known. He almost never took the danger that those bends and twists represented to the careless for granted. He'd been witness to two accidents, one of which was lethal to the driver, in the years since he'd bought his house in the hills near the Cheyenne Mountain Air Station. He knew that it didn't take but a moment's inattention to lose track of the rise and bias of the road before you would be careening off the side praying a tree would stop you before you fell the entire height of the cliff. But he couldn't hear that song again. That became singularly important at that moment and in that singleness of purpose he left two lives hanging in the balance.
As he brought his eyes back to the road Jack realized belatedly that he was going a bit too fast for the curve, and then with horror, he saw that his momentum and centripetal force was carrying him straight towards a woman standing next to the side of the drop-off. His heart slammed in his chest and his feet slammed on the breaks as he attempted to steer himself away from her. The back end of the truck fishtailed and he let his feet off the breaks to regain control. Once the traction was back he veered hard to the right bringing the front end away from the woman. She was standing oddly: as if she didn't see him, though she was looking right at him. His overcorrection brought the rear of the truck swinging around and as he felt the sickening sensation of the right tires leaving the ground he knew there was no way he'd missed her. The truck rolled once, still spinning around like a top, and began its slide over the edge of the drop-off. There were a couple of trees in perfect position to intercept this wayward 'hail Mary' pass from the road and the last sound Jack heard before darkness overtook him was the sound of those trees stopping his descent as his truck crunched around them.
"Ow...Ow...Ow...Ow..." Jack tried to sort out his up and down and disentangle his limbs from the contents of his bag that had strewn themselves around the misshapen interior cab of his truck. 'Head hurts...bad...' He let himself out of his seatbelt and began inching his way painfully towards the shattered window on the passenger side of the truck. He was about to crawl through its jagged opening when he heard a faint moan.
"Oh, God!" The woman! He remembered she'd been just standing there and there had been no chance he hadn't hit her. '.crap.' Ignoring the jagged pieces of polarized glass beneath him he pushed himself out of the upside down truck as quickly as he could. He was situated about ten feet down the drop-off that lowered steeply to a narrow plateau before becoming a 700-foot high sheer cliff. The pine needles that had fallen from the trees stuck to his hands as he crawled the short distance to the lip of the drop-off. He staggered to his feet, catching his breath as stars exploded in his vision. He stumbled and sank to his knees crunching the left one on a rock. "OUCH!" 'Get up more slowly,' he told himself as he attempted to marshal his training and years of experience to help him move past his own injuries so that he could find the injured woman.
He slowly pushed himself to his feet with greater success. He opened his eyes and squinted at the late afternoon sun. Then he heard the moan again. She was nearby. Jack zigzagged towards the origin of the sound and dropped slowly back to his hands and knees at the dizzying sight. There she was! He lowered himself onto the steep incline and made his way to her as quickly as possible.
She was laying face down with her right side against a tree. A shock of dark brown hair full of pine needles covered her face and splayed out in all directions. Jack pulled the hair aside to reveal a pale scraped cheek. He gingerly reached to check her breathing and for a pulse at her neck. She was breathing steadily and her heartbeat was strong and regular. He felt along the base of her skull and slowly worked his hand down her spine searching for any irregularity in the bone. He then checked all her extremities for obvious injuries. He felt none, but that didn't mean there was none. She must have sensed someone touching her because she whimpered lightly again and moved her hand to her face.
"Try not to move. You've been hit." 'Yeah by you, ya idiot.' "I'm going to go get my phone and call for some help. Just stay put." He crawled on his hands and knees towards his truck, vaguely aware of the burning pain of torn skin on his palms and left knee. His phone had been in his jacket, which had been beside him on the seat. He scrutinized his battered truck for signs of instability. The truck appeared to be solidly against a couple of trees that didn't look as though they were going to fold any time soon. He sat back and tried to use his boot to clear some of the glass from his path. Then he turned back around and scooted himself back inside the cab. His belongings were a jumble, but his jacket was sitting exactly opposite where it'd been before the truck turned tires over roof. He reached in the pocket and pulled out his cell and flipped it open.
"Damnit!" A "No Signal" message mocked him from the fully-charged phone. 'Must be the mountain.' He didn't remember ever having lost a signal when driving home before, but then he couldn't remember having talked to someone all the way home on his cell. He grabbed his jacket and a shirt from the roof of the cab beneath him. Then he attempted to pry the glove box open seeking the first aid supplies he kept inside. The box was jammed tight.
Jack made his way back out of the truck and started back towards the injured woman. He blinked. She was not there. He looked around, the movement turning his stomach and threatening to send him sprawling back into darkness. She was no longer on the side of the hill. He clambered up the slope and as he came level with the road he saw her. She was walking down the road. That had to be a good sign, right?
Jack hoisted himself over the ledge of the drop-off and scrambled to his feet. 'God that hurts!' He started off after her. "Wait!" He called after her and she stopped momentarily without turning. Then she kept walking. Her pace was slow and deliberate. Jack attempted to jog and thought better of it immediately when he was admonished by a searing pain in his left knee and tunneling of his vision. "Ah hell," he muttered and limped after her at the fastest pace he could maintain.
He reached her and touched her shoulder. She spun around on him shooting a hand out, catching him completely off guard as she slammed the bridge of his nose with the heel of her hand. White sparks erupted in his vision and he staggered backwards. "OW!" His hands shot up to his face and when his vision began to clear he looked at them. Blood. 'She broke my nose!' He was at once a little angry and a lot relieved. She must be okay if she was up to fighting.
He looked up to find her standing there with a clearly trained defensive posture. He'd seen this before...some guys he'd encountered in Iraq had squared off against each other in exactly this position. They'd been soldiers and were sparring to pass time. She stood there looking like she could tear him apart, but there was something wrong. Her eyes: gray like the dark clouds that gathered before a storm, but somehow vacant. She simply stood there unmoving. She was completely dissociated but still defending herself from a perceived threat. Jack took a mental inventory of the visible injuries: a serious bruise was swelling on the scraped cheek, her lower lip was bloodied and swollen, her shirt was ripped just below her right breast and the skin beneath appeared bruised and scraped as well with blood coloring the edges of the hole. Otherwise she seemed to be okay. Jack was certain she'd hit her head because he'd found her basically unconscious. There was no telling how long he'd lain in his truck unconscious himself before climbing out of the cab.
"I'm Jack," he sputtered. He raised his hands flat in front of him to indicate he was not intending to threaten her. "Are you all right?" 'Very dumb question. Of course not.' He bent at the knees slightly to make himself appear a little smaller, hopefully less threatening. She didn't move. He tried again. Pointing to himself he said in an exaggerated tone, "Jaaack."
He sensed the flash in her eyes as a hint of cognition flitted across her face. Her hands dropped a little, her shoulders sagged and she whispered, "Jack," before she began to slump to the pavement. Jack had been coiled tightly with his knees bent and was thankful for that when he was able to shoot across the space between them and catch her before she fell to the abrasive surface beneath her. He wrapped his left arm around her upper back and swept her legs up with his right. Ignoring the protests from oh-so-many-places on his body he carried her back to the side of the road and laid her down gingerly.
Her breath was coming in shorter gasps than before. There was virtually no color in her cheeks causing a startling contrast between the deepness of her dark brown hair and the whiteness of her skin. He touched his fingers to her neck and found her pulse to be fast and not as strong as before. She was going into shock. Jack scooted over to where he'd left his jacket laying on the ground and retrieved it. He wadded it into a ball and placed it beneath her legs. He then retrieved the extra shirt he'd grabbed and covered her torso to help keep her warm. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone again and flipped it open: still no signal.
What the hell was she doing here alone and with no car, anyway?
Jack bit his lip and tried to think. His brain still felt ragged from the knock he'd gotten in the accident and his face was singing the buzzing sound of rushing blood and swelling. He looked down at the woman lying limply on the ground. He'd gotten blood on her. He wiped his hands on his jeans futilely. How was he going to get help? So far he'd been here what felt like forever, though it couldn't have been more than five minutes since he'd awoken, and no one had driven by and his phone wasn't getting a signal and he couldn't just leave her here and he was still two miles from his cabin and...'settle down.'
He looked at the length of the shadows cast by the trees over the road. He had a couple of hours before sundown. He studied the side of the road where the hill continued on up the mountain peak. Maybe if he climbed up just a little higher he would be able to get a signal on his phone and call for help. But that would still leave the woman alone and injured. 'Two miles...' give or take. Could he walk two miles in two hours carrying an unconscious woman?
He would damn well have to try.
He bent down and touched the woman's side where her shirt was torn. He felt for give in her ribs and there was none. He was seriously hoping she was simply bruised and cut and that none of her ribs were broken because he was going to have to do this utilizing a fireman's carry. If only Teal'c were here...
With a deep breath to punctuate the declaration of his decision he bent down and began gathering the woman in his arms. She was completely unconscious now, not making a sound as he sat her up and put his head to her side pulling with one hand and pushing with his shoulder to situate her. As he made his way to a squatting position the knee that had landed on the rock threatened to go on him. Jack bit down, crushing an agonized cry between his teeth, the determination to get help more forceful than the pain.
He forced his legs to straighten and adjusted the woman's position so that she was balanced properly. Then he started walking. He thought about his truck and was tempted to turn around and look at it, but that would have meant he would have to stop his forward momentum and turn completely around and he just didn't have the time or energy to do that right now. He set out at a reasonable clip and was thankful that he was on the mostly-level part of the journey. The long road from the Cheyenne Mountain Air Station to his house was steep and mostly uphill until you got towards the end where it flattened out considerably.
He'd gone maybe a half-mile when he decided to check the phone again. He stopped and considered lying the woman down but then thought better of it when he remember how hard it had been to get her up to his shoulder in the first place. After walking as far as he had he doubted he could get her back up there if he laid her down. So he held tight to her with one arm and fished for his phone with the other. He latched onto it and flipped it open.
'Yes!' He pressed 1 on the phone and held it down to activate the speed dial. It was the easiest thing he could think of to do. Holding the phone he slipped her off his shoulder and lowered her gently to the ground. Her face was red from the blood having settled in her head somewhat, but as soon as she was down that color drained away and the stark whiteness that he'd observed earlier returned.
"Major Carter." Of course she'd still be in her lab even though it was their week off. He silently berated himself for not ordering her off the base. Still, it was a very good thing that she was reachable.
"Hey," he started, trying to catch his breath.
"Colonel?"
"Carter, listen I need some help. There's been an accident. On the pass going toward my house. I'm about a half of a mile past the truck. I need you to send a medical transport," he panted into the phone.
"Sir? Are you okay?" Her voice took that upturn that signified alarm.
"Yes, Carter, just send me some help. Now." No time for questions. He tried not to sound irritable. His head hurt worse than he could remember it ever hurting.
"Yes, Sir!" She hung up and Jack knew that she would be on it. It would take them at least ten minutes to get to him. He dropped down next to the woman and rested his arms on his knees, putting his head in his hands and dragging them through his hair. He did another quick cursory examination of the woman. She seemed to be stirring again. He held the back of his hand near her mouth and felt strong hot breath against his skin and when he took her pulse it was stronger than it had been last time he checked. She murmured something unintelligible. Jack wished he'd retrieved his jacket or at least the shirt so he could cover her. He leaned across her to feel the warmth of the skin on her arm.
And was abruptly startled by a hand clamping around his throat as she came fully awake. She grabbed him hard enough to cut the circulation in the superficial jugular veins of his neck, but instinctively he brought his hands to bear against her arm: one cutting at the elbow and the other cutting above in the opposite direction to sweep the arm. It dislodged her grip and in one fluid motion Jack took hold of her hand placing a thumb against the back of her hand and his fingers on the inside of her wrist. He twisted the hand toward her, bending hard enough to make it uncomfortable but not painful, and held her immobile as he got his feet fully beneath him. A spark of anger and fear lit her eyes. Jack saw it just as she thought it and reached out in time to catch the left hand as it started for him. He grabbed the left hand and twisted it in a similar hold as the right and straddled her legs before she could bring them up. She bucked against him.
"HEY! I'm not going to hurt you!" She was still completely silent and her eyes flashed wildly. "Stop it! You were in an accident and help is coming!" He strained to keep her legs pinned. "I'm Jack, remember?! Oh, for crying out loud!"
At that she stopped. A flicker of understanding settled over her face. She quit struggling. Jack immediately rose up off her legs and moved to one side of her. Her arms became heavy in his hands and carefully he let them go. They fell to her chest and she lay there breathing heavily.
"Jack," she said.
"Yes, Jack. I'm Jack." He settled into an alert squat and waited.
"Something has happened." It was intended to be a question. She didn't make to move but turned her head toward him. Jack noticed she had an accent. Arab? Israeli?
"Well, to be honest, I hit you with my truck. I tried to miss you, but when the truck spun I think the back end of it hit you." He kept his eyes fixed on her.
She didn't say anything for a bit. She started to push herself into a sitting position and Jack instinctively reached to help her. She flinched and pushed him off. Jack sat back on his heels again. The woman struggled into a sitting position and raised her hands to her face fingering the large contusion on her cheekbone. She examined herself thoroughly and then ran her hands through her long tangled hair, pulling leaves and pine needles with them. Abruptly she stopped.
"There is no truck here," she demanded with narrowing eyes.
"It's about a half a mile back. This road is usually pretty deserted, and I didn't have a cell signal where the accident happened. I didn't want to leave you there alone while I went in search of a signal, so I brought you with me." He met her level gaze. This did not seem like a concussed and injured woman, though she did seem somewhat afraid, and not just a little suspicious.
"You carried me." It was another question. This was definitely an interrogation.
"Yes."
"The truck is this way." She pointed in the direction towards his house in askance.
Jack gestured in the direction he'd come. She looked that way and then she looked at the direction they were going and Jack saw the question raised to her eyes. He waited to see if she would ask why he was carrying her away from town. She stared at him appraisingly, but did not ask. So he offered.
"I have a house less than two miles from here. It was the closest thing I could think of if I didn't get a signal." Her eyes flashed minutely, but she settled back a little. Clearly she was gauging this man, testing her circumstances. Jack's mind thought back to the way she'd hit him when she first thought he was a threat. But then she hadn't really thought that, had she? She had just reacted. With skill and precision. And the way she came awake this last time....
"You got a signal on your phone." Again, no question was asked, and yet it was a question.
"Yes. I called a friend who is sending an ambulance which will be here within a minute or two." Jack also assumed that at least one worried Major would be in tow.
This time it was a question: "Why did you not dial 911?"
Jack started...and then he stopped. Why, indeed?
"I still had you tossed over my shoulder like a sack of potting soil. I was thinking of doing things the easy way. You know, speed dial?" It was at least partially true. He couldn't say that the whole truth was that he was so used to the Air Force providing his home, police force, firemen, and medical personnel for reasons of national security that he wouldn't have even thought of calling 911. It had become second nature.
She eyed him with that unwavering gray stare and he was certain that she knew he wasn't telling her something. However, she decided not to pursue it.
Just then they both jerked their heads around at the sound of an approaching ambulance. Jack immediately wished he hadn't done that as a flare of pain shot through his head and a nauseating dizziness swept over him. He sagged forward and caught himself with one arm before he went face-first into the dirt. The woman at his side caught him under the arm and hauled him into a recovery position with his head between his knees.
'Training....this woman has been trained,' he thought decisively. 'Military? Maybe she is stationed here.'
As he sat with his head down he considered what this might mean. He'd hit her with his truck. He could be in trouble. It was negligence pure and simple. There was no other way to look at it. He'd looked down at his CD player and when he looked up again he had nearly taken out what might very well be a fellow soldier.
"Do you work at the Mountain?" He mumbled from between his knees.
"Which mountain?" She was close behind him. It was a guarding posture that would catch him if he fell again.
"Cheyenne Mountain Air Station." He started to look up at her. She gently pushed his head back down, for which he was grateful because when he saw his surroundings he was quite sure there had been two of everything. Not a good sign.
There was no answer. He could still feel her presence next to him, but she didn't speak. So he started to repeat himself thinking she hadn't heard him. "Cheyenne-"
"No," she stated. Then she started to cough. It was a wet sounding cough that was painful for him to hear. He winced as she sucked air trying to overcome the reflexive sensation to cough again. He remembered her ribs and feared they had in fact been broken and his carrying her had damaged her lungs. She lost the battle and started coughing again, hacking and gasping until he heard her spit. He looked on the ground next to him. Blood. Sure enough, he'd hurt her by carrying her. Damnit!
The ambulance had arrived. She stood and walked sturdily to meet the medical team emerging from the back of the, uh huh, Cheyenne Mountain medical transport unit. 'No civilian doctors for me,' Jack thought wryly. 'I like 'em when they can pull rank on you.' Oh Dr. Fraiser was going to have his ass for this. His leg was barely healed from a staff wound and now he was gonna darken her doorstep again and he hadn't even been offworld.
Wait a minute! He had called the transport for her! He started to push himself off the ground and got a wave of vertigo in reply. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice, "Sir!" The stubborn blonde-headed Major had obviously followed the medical transport in her own car. 'Yep, knew you were comin,' he thought.
She covered the distance between them in a moment, stretching her full five foot nine inch frame in long purposeful strides. Her eyes were wide with alarm as she took in the grayish pallor his coloring had adopted. She had thought that whoever else had been involved in the accident was injured. He seemed to indicate as much during their very brief conversation. "I thought you weren't injured." Good ol' mother-hen Carter.
"Well, at the time I didn't think so, Carter," he said tiredly. "I'm fine. Smacked my head a little. The lady here, however," he gestured towards where she was speaking with a medic, "was unconscious for a considerable amount of time, was shocky, and is now coughing up blood," he said sounding shaky to Carter. "Have them take a look at her first."
"Colonel, we have enough medical personnel here to check you both out. We had no idea what we'd find so I told Janet to send a small unit and two transports." Carter squatted down and began to examine the Colonel's head.
"Ack! Quit!" He squirmed away from her irritably as her fingers touched upon a very tender spot on the left side of his head near his temple.
"Sir, you have what looks like a pretty bad bruise very near your temple. I think you should come with us now back to the infirmary." She said resolutely.
"Well, I wasn't planning on sitting out here all night," he groused.
She reached down her hand to help him up. He took it and she noticed that he pulled a lot harder than he normally did when she helped him up. She clenched her jaw with concern and turned to see about getting him transported immediately.
The Colonel had gone to see about the woman who had been involved in the accident. Carter hadn't seen a second car at the scene so she assumed the car had gone over the side of the cliff. She had no idea how the Colonel had managed to save the woman.
Colonel O'Neill walked shakily to where the woman was sitting on a stretcher. A couple of medics began moving towards him from the back of the second transport.
"You gonna be okay?" he asked.
"Yes." She coughed again thickly but gave away nothing with her eyes. The medic who was attending her reported to the colonel that she was to be transported to the nearest local hospital.
Jack thanked him and started towards his own medical transport with the two young airmen who'd approached him when he suddenly turned 'Ugh that hurts' and called to her, "What is your name?"
"Shaboni," she said and then she was loaded into the transport and he was being ushered towards his.
The major saw to it that her CO was loaded into the transport and safely on his way before heading back to her car. She drove the short distance to the scene of the accident, parked, and got out. She surveyed the wreckage of his truck for a moment, astonished he wasn't any worse off than he appeared to be. From his short report, apparently he'd carried the woman when he went to find help. Sam stepped over the lip of the incline and made her way down to the open passenger window of the truck. She pulled her jacket sleeves down over the palms of her hands to protect them from glass and debris and crawled into the upside down cab. The colonel's belongings were scattered throughout the truck. The keys were still in the ignition. She began gathering what items she could find and stuffed them back in his duffle. She noticed a cracked jewel case and opened it up. When she found it empty she decided to try to retrieve the CD from the stereo. She depressed the eject button and nothing happened. Reasoning the device needed power to perform the function she'd requested of it, she reached up and turned the keys far enough to access the battery power of the truck. The lights on the dash came on and the music began playing.
'Sting? I never would have guessed the colonel would listen to Sting.' Neither Jazz nor Pop would have seemed like his genre. Rock, definitely, maybe even classical. But Pop? Jazz? No. And this was both. She pressed the eject button and eased the CD into its jewel case and put that in his bag. Satisfied that she had everything in the truck, she grabbed the keys from the ignition and eased back out. She spotted his jacket and a shirt lying on the side of the road as she climbed back towards her car and gathered them with the duffle. She looked around for evidence of the other car and found none. There was only one set of tire marks leading at an angle away from the road, clearly belonging to the truck. She noticed where the truck had fishtailed, and then the skid marks stopped. About 15 feet past that she saw where the truck had begun its spin and roll. There was glass and metal debris in a fairly straight line all the way to the trees. But there was simply no evidence of another car.
"She must have been walking!" Sam exclaimed to herself. She fished in her pocket to make a quick phone call and found that her cell wasn't working in this particular area. She trotted back to her car, tossing the duffel in the back, and began heading for the base. About a half a mile from the crash site she saw she had a signal and phoned the base, asking to be transferred to the radio dispatch. She was surprised the Colonel hadn't mentioned that it had not been another car he'd hit, but a pedestrian. It was a detail that would be important to the treating physicians.
"Delta one niner, dispatch," came the voice on her cell.
"This is Major Samantha Carter. I have a message for the medical transport that is carrying a civilian accident victim to Mercy Hospital."
"I'll take that message, Major, go ahead."
"It appears that the accident was actually pedestrian versus motor vehicle and not a two-car MVA. The civilian was apparently the pedestrian."
"Roger that, Major. I'll radio the transport immediately. Out." Sam grinned at the dispatcher who was obviously so used to working a radio that he'd forgotten how to talk on a telephone.
Sam drove toward the base silently wondering why the colonel had neglected to mention that he'd hit the woman with his truck. 'He was hit in the head. He clearly didn't feel well.' She dismissed the idea for now. She suddenly realized she had neglected to phone Daniel. Teal'c had been alerted to the incident when she sprang from her lab to get the general, but had stayed at the base assuming everything would be well in hand. She held down the speed dial number for Daniel's cell phone.
"Dr. Jackson," he answered distractedly.
"Daniel."
"Sam?" His voice sounded surprised. He truly hadn't expected to hear from anyone from the SGC for the entire week. The decision to stand them down for a week was a solid and very needed one. He knew that the general would do everything in his power to prevent SG1 from being interrupted...unless there was an emergency. "What's wrong?"
"Daniel, Colonel O'Neill has been in an accident."
"Is he okay?" The edge of worry to his voice was heart wrenching. He'd been through so much lately. The last thing she wanted to do was give him more bad news.
"I think so. He seemed to have been somewhat dazed when I got to him. But..." her voice trailed off for a moment. Why was she even mentioning it?
"What else?"
"He hit a woman. A pedestrian. At least, I think he did." She heard a faint draw of air from the other end. She continued, "I think he ran into her with his truck. There was no other car. She seemed to be okay when I got there, but Colonel O'Neill told me that she'd been unconscious for quite some time and was shocky and coughing blood. I didn't get an opportunity to check her out myself." Her thoughts traveled to the colonel and how his coloring had been so poor and was he okay and had he arrived at the Mountain yet...
"Sam. Sam?" Daniel's voice drew her from her thoughts.
"Sorry, Daniel. Yeah?"
"Where is Jack?"
"He's been transported back to the base so that Janet can have a look at him. They transported the woman to Mercy."
"I'm on my way."