"He's losing weight."
A single eyebrow arched elegantly over a dark eye.
"What are you talking about Sam?" Daniel's quizzical gaze met hers over his lunch.
"The General. He's losing weight." More confused looks met her gaze. "You guys haven't noticed?" The rest of SG-1 shook their heads at her.
Frowning Sam finished her lunch and bid her teammates a good afternoon before returning to her lab.
Two weeks later SG-1 was leaving the infirmary after another close call. The three team members had gotten trapped off world for 48 hours and had come home in a flurry of weapons fire.
Carter had a large gash across one side of her face that looked terrible with all the bruising and swelling surrounding the wound. Daniel had suffered a graze on his ribs from a staff weapon. Jackson would remain in the infirmary overnight but the doctor expected the wound to heal cleanly. Even Teal'c had suffered a sprained wrist when he had hit the ground as he pulled his teammate out of the way of staff weapon fire. Without his symbiote he was left to rest and heal the injury like any other member of the SGC.
"Colonel Carter. Do you have a moment which you could spare?"
"Sure Teal'c. Not a problem. Why don't you stop by my lab after I get showered and changed?"
"That would be acceptable." Executing a half bow and a deep nod of his head Teal'c headed in the direction of the men's locker room.
Sam walked into her lab with slightly damp hair to find the large bulk of former Jaffa sitting on the stool behind her main work station. The somber timber of her friend's voice had spurred her to urgency and she had forgone the normal blow dry after her shower.
"What can I help with Teal'c?"
"It is O'Neill. I have thought on your comments and observed him. I find that I too am concerned for his health. I only regret that I did not notice sooner."
It was Sam's turn to frown. She hadn't even seen the General when the team got back. Which was odd. Usually he was there to greet SG-1 whenever they arrived home from off world.
"I saw him briefly in the infirmary as he went to attend Daniel Jackson and he did not look well." Concerned eyes met hers.
"We won't have a mission for the next week or two while Daniel heals up. Maybe we can arrange a barbeque?"
"Indeed. However I feel we should schedule it as soon as possible."
"It's Tuesday I'll see if we can do something Saturday. Daniel should be up and about by then. I'll ask the General."
"Very well."
Over the course of the next two days, despite her best intentions, Sam didn't ask the General. Mostly due to the fact that she couldn't pin him down. It seemed that he was bogged down in meetings and when he did have a moment free from scheduled events he was hidden behind a pile of paperwork. The first chance she got to see him after their mission was that Friday at the post-mission briefing.
He looked terrible.
Normally the briefing was held immediately after a mission. In light of Daniel's injury and the general consensus that the planet had been a bust the briefing was pushed to the end of the week.
Gaunt with dark circles under his eyes the normally buoyant personality of their commanding officer was missing. Jack's eyes roamed over his former teammates taking in the darkening bruise on Sam's cheek and the ginger way Daniel held his side. His eyes hardened at this latest evidence of injury and he bit the inside of his cheek.
The briefing was short and to the point. We came, we saw, there were Jaffa. As the team stood following O'Neill to his feet Carter cleared her throat.
"Sir we were wondering if you'd like to have a barbecue this weekend."
A sad smile crossed his lips. "Sorry kiddo's but I can't," He gestured back towards his office. "No rest for the wicked."
Disappointment flitted across Sam's face but Teal'c spoke up. "O'Neill, neither my quarters nor Daniel Jackson's apartment allow the owners to possess grilling tools and it is my understanding from Colonel Carter that hers is broken." Sam started to speak but realized where it was going. "It is our wish, O'Neill, to use your equipment. We understand however if you will not allow it. Perhaps we can join in companionship at a different time."
Jack looked around at his team and felt a pang of guilt. When was the last time he had seen them off base? "Yeah, sure. Come over. You guys can fire the grill up and I'll try to get there as soon as I can."
Pleased with the outcome the team trouped out of the room.
The grill was cooling and the food mostly gone by the time Jack walked into his house the next day. SG-1 was sitting around his table and looked up as he came in. Seeing them sitting there it almost looked like he had forgotten he had invited them over.
Sam glanced at her watch discretely. 8:45pm. "Sorry Sir. We've already eaten."
"You didn't want a hungry Jaffa on your hands Jack." Daniel piped in from next to her.
A weary smile crossed his lips. "Hey guys. Sorry I'm late."
"It is not a problem O'Neill. We have saved a meal for you." Teal'c intoned, "Would you like a fermented beverage? It is my understanding that Daniel Jackson has procured your favorite brand."
Shaking his head Jack ignored the food and poured himself a glass of water then sat heavily in the seat at the head of the table. "I'm good thanks T." His former teammates frowned.
"Is everything well O'Neill? You have arrived extremely late and seem as though you are tired. Were you able to acquire sustenance prior to your arrival?"
"No T. I'm all set. Just a long day. Sorry about that. Lost track of time."
"Is not the weekend a day for rest and recuperation?"
"Not in this job buddy," a grim smile crossed his lips. "No worries. Hope you enjoyed dinner." Teal'c dipped his head in acknowledgement.
"It was pretty good Jack. Sorry you missed it."
The man in question pushed the barely touched glass of water away from himself and rose. As much as he wanted to spend some all too infrequent time with his friends he just didn't have the energy. "Sorry I was so late. I'm going to hit the sack."
Concerned glances shot across the table as their CO left and trudged toward the back of the house and his bedroom. They had all noticed the lack of food in the house and the fine layer of dust that coated the surfaces of the tables in the family room. It didn't look like Jack O'Neill was spending much time at home.
"Sir are you sure you're not hungry?" The only response Sam got was a faint request to stick the leftovers in the fridge before the sound of the bedroom door put an end to the conversation.
Rising silently the team started to clean up the debris from their meal and then let themselves out of the house.
Monday morning Daniel managed to corral Walter Harriman.
"Is the Jack, er, um the General, is he okay?"
Harriman looked surprised then closed off. "It's really not my place to comment Dr. Jackson."
"It's okay Walter I'm just worried. He looked tired the last time I talked to him."
"I'm not surprised. He's here later than I am most nights. And in earlier. I used to have to meet him at the elevator every morning but now he gets in before I do."
Daniel's brow furrowed. "Thanks Walter."
"He's not going home at night." Sam sat in front of her computer confirming Daniels suspicions. He had asked her to pull up the base's entry and exit logs and look for Jack's ID swipes at the entrance to the mountain. "It looks like in the last three months he's only left the mountain 15 nights. That's counting weekends."
"We should have noticed." Daniel seemed frustrated with himself.
"We too have been concerned with our own duties since the promotion of O'Neill to base commander. However I agree that I have failed to ensure his wellbeing."
The stomach pains had been plaguing him for nearly 6 weeks but it was slowly getting worse. He was hungry and nauseous at the same time. But every time he ate something the pain only intensified. Water seemed to sit well but even that had started causing stomach churning bouts of heartburn lately.
He popped another aspirin to help with the mounting headache and chased it with an antacid. The headaches had become more and more frequent since he had taken over command of the base. He just needed to sleep more he mused. However, every time he thought he reached the end of the pile of paperwork another pile would arrive.
He knew how much Hammond had put into this place but he didn't quite realize what it had entailed. The sheer amount of paper that they went through had Jack wondering how they got by without deforesting the whole planet. There were enough trees out in the universe maybe the SGC should start its own paper mill. He smiled inwardly at the thought of the next budget meeting. Maybe he could pitch it as a fundraiser the next time they tried to cut funding to the SGC.
The smile vanished as his stomach roiled again and he reached for the Tums and another stack of papers.
The weekly team leader meeting was something Hammond had instituted and Jack indented to continue. Each week the team leaders who weren't off world had an oppourtunity to voice their concerns. It also gave Jack the chance to take the temperature of the teams and get a bead on morale on base. At the moment SG-6's leader, Captain Reeves, was saying that he felt the teams should have more time off world. That the standard 18 hour survey of a planet, if the MALP and UAV didn't find anything of interest wasn't enough.
Jack was trying to concentrate. Truly he was. It wasn't that long ago that he was a team leader and had felt the same. That was before he realized that 18 hours had a lot more to do with budget and gate rotational schedules than taking time to truly investigate a planet.
At this particular instant the reason he wasn't listening was because he was desperately trying not to vomit in front of the 11 assembled team leaders. In a battle of wills between himself and his stomach he was not confident he was winning.
"Sir?" Carter inquired.
Jack had blinked just a little too long. He pried his eyes open and made contact with his former second. He opened his mouth to reply and realized his mistake.
Spinning rapidly to his left Jack proceeded to vomit on the carpet at his feet. Carter was out of her chair and yelling at the SG-14 commander to get on the phone and get Warner here stat. Jack wondered why she had asked for the bases' CMO then he opened his eyes.
His boots swam into focus and between them was a dark red stain. He wiped his hand across his lips and it came back bloody. He stared at the bright red liquid coating his fingertips.
General Jack O'Neill moved to stand up and then knew nothing.