It had been a long day in the SGC infirmary. SG-5 had returned from their latest trip to P3X-472 with a nasty contagious rash. Hardly a life threatening problem. However having the entire base out of action because of it was a less than pleasant idea. Only mere minutes after administering a cure that took hours to create, Sergeant Siler came in with yet another second degree electrical burn to his hand. It had seemed like one of those days when having a break just wasn't going to happen. Doctor Janet Fraiser looked up from her large pile of reports and glanced at the clock on her stark concrete wall, the exhaustion evident in her eyes.
'These can wait till the morning,' she thought to herself, placing the newly finished report into her out box.
She had just pushed her chair away from the desk, when the warning light above her door began to paint her office in a reddish glow.
"MEDICAL TEAM TO THE GATE ROOM! MEDICAL TEAM TO THE GATE ROOM!" Sergeant Walter Harriman's voice blasted out of the intercom.
"You've got to be kidding me," Janet mumbled to herself.
By the time Janet entered the infirmary, her team were ready for whatever the universe had in store for them this time.
"Alright team," she said as she grabbed her pre-prepped medikit and headed toward the infirmary's double doors, followed closely by her staff. "You all know the drill. Andrews and Jones I want you to prep the isolation room. We have no idea what we're dealing with." As she reached the elevator the doors sprang open, almost as if they sensed her presence. "Dawson I want you to contact Doctor Warner. He should be here by now. The rest of you with me."
She didn't know why but it seemed to her whenever there was some sort of emergency, as there often was in the SGC, the elevators moved slower than usual. It was in stark contrast to her memories of the Gulf War. Things never seemed to slow back then. Constant bullets raining down upon her medical team sure had a way of making time speed up. But now in a cramped elevator mere seconds seemed to stretch into hours.
After what felt like half a lifetime, the perfectly polished elevator doors swung open revealing a bustling concrete tunnel much like the one she had just exited.
"Move," Janet commanded as she and her team entered the hallway.
Most people would have needed to yell to get people's attention, but Janet Fraiser has never been 'most people'. It wasn't out of fear the pintsized doctor could control a whole room with a single word, it was out of sheer respect: respect for what she did on a daily basis. A doctor, a major in the airforce, a mother, and a friend. However if need be she was capable of putting fear into the strongest of men.
The medical team raced down the now cleared corridor, round the bend, and through the gate room's blast doors. As soon as she had stepped inside, Janet could see what the problem was.
Major Samantha Carter lay upon the harsh metal of the gate ramp. Her usually vibrant skin now ghastly white leaving only splatters of blood to colour her cheeks.
"Doc?" The unasked question evident in Colonel O'Neill's voice, was his second in command going to be alright?
Doctor Daniel Jackson was crouched next to Sam. His hands were pressed against her wound, trying to stop the torrent of blood pouring from her abdomen.
Janet would never admit to having a favourite team, it would go against everything she'd worked so hard for. But she had always had a soft spot for SG-1. Seeing the person she had come to view as her best friend lying there bleeding out before her eyes was more than most could stand, but Janet was a professional. She had to be.
"Get the gurney in here," Janet said to her staff as she rushed to Sam's side. Reaching the Major's still body, she shot a question to the rest of the team, "What happened?"
"It all happened so fast," Daniel said, his voice slightly shaking. "One moment Sam and I were talking about the local plant life. The next the staff weapon blasts were flying through the air."
Janet could see the singed skin around the gaping wound, blisters starting to form on the burnt flesh. After a quick look at the wound, Janet released the breath she hadn't even noticed she'd been holding.
"We need to get her into surgery stat," Janet informed all around her.
As Janet stepped back, her team moved in and put Major Carter on the infirmary gurney.
"How does it look, Doctor Fraiser?" General Hammond asked as he stepped forward, the worry in his voice only evident to those who knew him well.
"It's bad General, but not as bad as it looks," she could see a hint of worry drop out of his eyes as she spoke. "The staff blast only really clipped her. If we're lucky there won't be injury to any internal organs. I will keep you updated as much as I can, but for now Sam needs me."
"Of course," Hammond said with a slight nod of his head.
Janet hated days like this. But it wasn't the long hours, or constant pressure of running the medical staff for the world's first defence that really got to her. It was the not knowing: not knowing if the people you worked with would step back from their missions alive. It was the waiting, the hoping that she wouldn't hear those words "Medical Emergency" blasted through the sound system. The SGC had lost so many good men and women in the years it had been running. So many memorials for fallen comrades. But today would not be one of those days. Not if she had anything to say about it.