"No man has a good enough memory
To be a successful liar."
-Abraham Lincoln
That crisp smell of antiseptic hospital room. The gentle beeping of an IV. The coarse feeling of infirmary blankets against flesh exposed by the hospital gown.
These things are familiar.
A hand in his.
Less familiar.
Consciousness slips.
-0-
Pain. Unendurable sharp pain.
Make it stop.
His thumb twitches… thumb twitches are supposed to stop pain, but it isn't working.
"Jack?" an excited voice asks.
"Augh," he manages through chapped lips. His voice has the sound of one that hasn't been used in a long time.
"Good to have you back in the land of the living," the voice says.
"Oww," Jack says.
"Ah, God, your morphine," the voice says, putting a button in his hand.
His thumb twitches.
Blessed relief.
Consciousness slips.
-0-
"…but to make a wormhole traversable, you need not only the energy of the naquada and the memory capabilities of the crystal, but you also need exotic memory with a negative density. I haven't been able to figure out what does that in our Stargate…" a voice states.
"Stop."
"I knew the technobabble would wake you up," the voice says with giggle.
He tries to open his eyes.
"How are you feeling, sir?" the voice asks, having lost his giggle.
"Where?" he says, hating how weak his voice is.
"You're in the infirmary. You've been out for a couple of days. You had us pretty worried. Well, not Janet, she told us how long you'd be out for from the very beginning."
"What happened?" he asks. He has no idea what happened to him. Then, with sudden panic, he realizes that he has no idea about anything. He doesn't even know who the hell he is. He frantically tries to move.
"Take it easy, sir," her voice says soothingly to him, "Janet!" a more frantic voice says to someone far away.
"Sir, sir, you need to calm down," another female voice says.
A needle touches his arm. He feels some cold liquid going into it.
Damn tranquilizer.
Consciousness slips.
-0-
This time, he opens his eyes before he does anything else. He knows he's going to have to have slow movements if he's going to avoid getting tranquilized again. A tank of a black man with a strange shape on his forehead is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.
"O'Neill," the tank greets him.
"You're here in case I need to be restrained," he tells the man. He doesn't want to make friends with his bodyguard quite yet.
There is pain, so he twitches his thumb to liberate some sweet morphine.
"I do not believe that will become necessary, old friend," the tank says.
"What makes you so sure?" the man asks, lifting one of his arms to massage his growing headache. There are a lot of wires coming out of his arm.
"All warriors experience flashbacks of events which nearly cause their death. It is nothing of which to be ashamed," the tank says.
It wasn't a flashback. You need memories in order to have a flashback. The man in the hospital bed has no idea what happened to him, or who he is. Except that he must be called O'Neill, and the one holding his hand isn't here anymore.
"I don't remember…" Jack says.
"You do not remember the battle in which you were injured?" the tank clarifies.
"Yeah, that… or anything else," the man in the hospital bed says.
The tank stands and presses a small alert button. Then he looks at the man in the hospital bed. "Your name is O'Neill, you are a warrior of great renown. My name is Teal'c of Chulak, and we have done battle together on many occasions."
"What seems to be the matter?" a short brunette comes into the room. Her voice is not the one of the hand-holder. She does not technobabble.
"O'Neill has revealed that he has no memory."
"Well, it's not uncommon to be confused about recent events when you're badly injured, especially with the drugs that he is on."
"I don't remember anything," Jack says.
"Anything?" she asks with her forehead wrinkling in concern.
"Well, I remember that pushing the button in my hand makes the pain go away. I have a vague recognition that I know you people," he gestures around the room, "I trust you. Beyond that…" he shakes his head.
The short women stares at him for a little bit. "I'm going to order an MRI of his brain this time. Meanwhile, I think your team and I should have a chat with the general."
"My team?" he asks.
"I am a member of your team," the tank says, walking out of the room.
Nurses come along, and wheel him to a small machine.
O'Neill reviews what he knows about the world. He is in an infirmary. He was injured in battle. He has a team. The tank is named Teal'c. He is safe. That's all he knows about the world. But for now, it's enough.
-0-
O'Neill is being rolled down the hallway back to his room. He catches a loud argument coming from his room.
"Sam, I can't let you do this!"
"It's my choice, Daniel."
"I agree that Major Carter should be allowed to do this if she chooses," the tank… Teal'c says.
"How come you didn't do it before?" the voice that must be Daniel says.
Then he rolls into the room, and whatever answer was about to come out of the young blonde's mouth dies on her lips. "Sir, are you ok?"
"Peachy," he says.
"It was touch and go for a while. I thought I was going to lose you," the blond women says softly.
He notices her eyes are puffy. She's been crying. He's pretty sure she never cries. Even when the world is going to end.
Wait, that's hyperbole right? He hasn't actually faced the end of the Earth with these people, has he?
"I'm fine," he says.
"Fine is a bit of an overstatement. He has retrograde amnesia caused by a traumatic brain injury. The good news is that most or maybe all of his memories are going to come back. It's going to take time, maybe years. There are probably some things that are gone forever," the short brown-haired women in a lab coat says.
"But he can make new memories? He's going to remember this conversation, right?" Daniel asks.
"I think so," Janet says.
"I know his name is Teal'c, and that you're Janet," Jack says helpfully.
The blond gives him a weak smile.
"I don't think we should be overwhelming the Colonel with any facts about his life right now, but if you wanted to keep him company," Janet says as she starts to leave the room.
"Doc… I'm fine, apart from the head?" he asks.
She looks at his body for a second, before meeting his eyes and nodding.
She's lying. He knows her well enough to know she's lying. There is something wrong with him, and the others were just warned not to say anything about it.
"Sam, Teal'c and I have some things to attend to, if you've got this?" Daniel says.
The blonde nods.
Sam. That's her name. Samantha when she's in a skirt. Sammy when she's crying. Sam when she's among friends.
That's right, isn't it? Why does he feel like there are a couple of words and descriptions are missing from the list? What did he call her when she saved the world? What was his name for her when he wanted her to laugh? What word did he use when she was bashful? She was bashful sometimes, but what made her that way?
"Sam, I don't need to be babysat, if you've got something to do," he says.
She freezes, and blinks at him. "What did you just call me?"
"That man… Daniel, didn't he just say your name is Sam?"
"Right, it is… It's just, you don't call me Sam."
"I'm sorry, what do I call you?" he asks.
"You know what? Sam is fine, it's… better. Besides, I'm really not supposed to be pointing out the things you can't remember."
He nods his head, but the puzzle does not leave his mind. He can't imagine he calls her honey, darling, sweetie, babe, or any such nonsense. He's pretty sure she'd punch him if he tried.
So what term of endearment does he use for her?
"This war… the one that went bad. Everyone else ok?" he asks.
"It was a rescue mission. A medic got pretty banged up. It's kind of a miracle we made it out of their without any fatalities. It was a trap. But we don't leave men behind. You taught me that."
He remembers her as she was when they first met. She was so young and green, and it was so important to her that he knew that she was able to take care of herself.
He can see her in a knife fight with a big scary man who smelled like rotten meat. She's risking her life to let a teenage girl marry the man she loves.
"I don't think you needed me to teach you anything," he says.
"But you taught me so much," she says sadly. Past tense.
"Sam, can you just tell me what the hell is wrong with me?"
"Janet said it might be overwhelming for you," she says looking away.
"It sure as hell can't be as bad as I'm imagining it to be," he says.
She's crying again.
"Sammy," he pleads.
She stands up, and walks over to him, "We don't actually know for sure…" She lays her hand on his thigh.
It's a weird time for her to be frisky, but she thought he was dead.
She squeezes it, "You feel that?"
"Of course," he says.
She moves down and touches his calf. He can see her touching it, but he can't feel anything. "What's going on?" he asks in panic, trying to sit up.
"Don't move," she says with moist eyes.
"I'm paralyzed?" he shouts.
Janet comes running in, "Sam, why did you tell him? I told you he needed to wait." Sam backs against the wall, looking embarrassed by her actions.
"I'm paralyzed, and she's the only one with the guts to tell me?" he rages, but the whole time he knows enough not to move his back. He's no fool.
"Sir, you're not paralyzed. There is an incomplete break at your L4 vertebrae."
"And what the hell does that mean?" he asks.
"It means that you might walk again."
"Might?" he shouts.
Janet looks him in the eye, "I'm sorry, sir. We are looking into an experimental procedure which may solve the problem. I didn't want to tell you until we knew. Even without it there is a chance that when the swelling goes down, and with some therapy you'll retain full function. Worst case scenario, you can't move anything below your knee."
"Great," O'Neill says quickly.
"I'm almost certain you've retained bladder, bowel, and sexual function," Janet adds.
"Almost?" he says with the sarcasm that only comes out when his world is falling apart.
"I'm sorry, Colonel," Janet says. She was reaching out her hand to tap him on the leg, she thinks better of it at the last second, and taps the bed instead.
Janet walks out the door, and O'Neill figures that Sam will follow after. She stands, and walks over to his bed instead.
"Sir?" she asks softly.
"I'd like to be left alone," he says.
"No, sir," she says.
A flash of her saying those words come into his mind. They are somewhere else, unbearably hot, though it's night. He had asked her if it said 'Colonel' anywhere on his uniform, even though he knew that it did not.
"You need to leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," she says taking his hand in hers.
"You don't want a broken-down soldier," he says.
She blinks at him confused. He wonders briefly if they've been having two different conversations at one time.
"I would never leave you… Jack," she says with sudden softness and joy in her eyes that are completely foreign to him. He finally knows his first name, but it sounds strange coming from her lips. It sounds like a lie.
"Samantha," he says, using her skirt name, "I can't remember when we first got together."
Then he does. This kiss in the gate room. Homer's shocked face. Him dipping her low.
"Never mind," he says.
She blinks in surprise, "What?"
"I am remembering little bits all the time. As soon as I asked the question, I remembered the kiss in the gate room."
"The what in the where?" Sam asks.
"I'm sorry, we're not a secret, are we? I mean, Homer was there."
"Who?" Sam asks. Then she pauses, and looks at him. She takes a deep breath, "Look, it won't be long before you find out that your job is crazy. Unbelievable kind of crazy. You wouldn't understand it if I told you now, but Hammond doesn't remember that moment. No-one knows about us. As far as they're concerned, you're just my boss, and I'm just on your team."
"Why?" he whispers. This is hurting more than the loss of his legs or his memory. He doesn't want to lose the holder of hands.
"It was against regulations. We would have had to be on different teams."
"Now I'm a cripple, and it doesn't matter," he says bitterly.
She turns to him with the first smile he's seen since waking up. It brings back flashes of hundreds of smiles. Most of them coming after one of his bad jokes. "Now we get to stop pretending. Well, not totally. I think we should pretend it started right here, right now."
Her eyes move back, and forth searching his.
He smiles. "Sam, maybe we should just go our separate ways. You're young, and beautiful, and smart. I'm none of those things. You didn't sign on for this."
"I didn't like you for your ability to walk. I'm not going to stop liking you for the lack of that ability," she says.
"What about my ability to operate my bladder?" he asks. It isn't quite the problem he wants to discuss with her, but it's closer than the walking one. It at least involves the same organ.
"I'm here to stay, no matter what does and does not work," she says, cutting to the heart of the issue.
She pulls a chair from the corner of the room over to his bed. She sits down, and grabs his hand.
This is right. The world is right when she's got her hand in his.