Sam blinked twice, and shook her head to try to clear it. She had been sitting in front of her computer for 11 hours now, with only a short break at lunch. It was time to call it a day, she decided. She was looking forward to an evening with her lover, in front of an open fire and a bottle of red wine. She smiled at the thought.
Sam logged out and shut the computer down, and was just headed toward the door of her lab to collect Janet from the infirmary, when Janet appeared at the door, rattling the car keys.
"Jan," she said softly. "I was just coming to get you." She stepped toward her, and stopped briefly, peering anxiously into Janet's face. "Are you okay, hon?" she asked. "You look awful pale."
"I'm fine, Sam," Janet replied, forcing a smile. "Stiff neck. Bit of a headache, that's all. Long day. Lots to do."
"You look exhausted, baby," Sam said gently. She took a step forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "Let me take you home, you can relax there, huh? Maybe take a nap?"
"Yeah," Janet agreed. "Nice quiet evening."
"My place?" Sam suggested, knowing that it was only 20 minutes from the base, unlike Janet's house which was over half an hour.
Janet nodded her agreement, massaging her neck and trying not to wince at the bright lights in Sam's lab.
"Have you taken some Tylenol for that?" Sam asked. "Do you think you should see Frankie?" she asked, referring to Francine Michaels, another of the doctors at the base.
"I'm okay, Sam, really," Janet said. "Just take me home, huh?"
Sam kissed her again, and wrapped her long arms round her in a protective hug. "Okay," she whispered into her hair. "We'll go."
They had come to the base in Janet's car that morning, having stayed at Janet's house the night before. They were only in the fourth month of their relationship but after their first week together, they had never spent a night apart if they could help it. Of course Sam often had to go on missions, and twice already Janet had had to go away for two nights for courses. But it was something they tried to avoid. It wasn't anything they had discussed, it was just a situation that had evolved naturally. They hadn't yet taken the step of moving in together, but they both knew that it was inevitable.
As they approached the car, Janet moved to the driver's seat. Sam put a hand on her arm. "I'll drive, hon," she said. "If you don't mind?"
Janet threw her a grateful glance. "That'd be great," she said. "Thank you sweetie."
As they drew up on the road outside Sam's house, Sam looked over at Janet. Her eyes were closed, but even so Sam could see she was in pain. She exited the car, being careful not to slam her door, and went round to the passenger side, opening Janet's door. "We're here, Jan," she said quietly.
Janet blinked, looking momentarily confused. "Sorry," she said, after a few seconds. "Must have fallen asleep for a moment."
Sam held the door open for her, and slid an arm round her waist once she was upright. Janet leaned against her. "I love you, Sam," Janet said in a quiet voice, reaching out and taking her hand.
"Your hands are like ice," Sam said to her. "C'mon, let's get you inside. We'll have you feeling better real soon."
Sam guided Janet to the couch in the living room. She knelt down and removed Janet's shoes. "Lie down, baby," she said, and lifted her legs on to the couch, grabbing a large cushion and placing it under her head. "You just relax for a while, hon," she whispered. "I'll go heat up some soup. When you've had some soup and crackers, you should go to bed, get some sleep. That headache'll be all gone in the morning."
"Will you come with me?" Janet tried to keep the pleading note out of her voice.
Sam stroked her soft cheek. "Of course I will honey," she said. She frowned, and moved her hand up to Janet's forehead. "You're feeling a little warm, Jan," she said.
Janet shook her head minutely. "Not warm. Cold," she said.
Sam grabbed the warm comforter from the armchair, and tucked it round her lover. "I'm just gonna get the thermometer," she said.
"M'okay," Janet mumbled.
Sam smiled, and kissed her softly. "I know you're okay, baby. Just humor me. I haven't got your medical expertise, remember?"
Sam returned from the bathroom in under a minute, and inserted the thermometer into Janet's ear, waiting for the telltale 'beep'. "100.4," she said. "I thought so, you have a fever."
"Only mild. It'll be gone soon," Janet insisted. "Took Toradol."
"Well you tell me if you start to feel any worse," Sam said firmly. "I'm gonna heat up this soup now. You warm enough now Jan?"
"Uh huh," Janet said, as Sam headed toward the kitchen.
"By the way," Sam turned back to her lover. "I love you too." She saw a small smile creep across Janet's lips.
Less than ten minutes later, Sam came back into the living room, carrying a tray with soup, crackers and a large glass of orange juice. Janet didn't stir as Sam set the tray down on a small table near the couch.
Sam knelt by Janet's head, and reached up to rouse her gently. She smoothed Janet's hair back from her forehead, and was disconcerted to feel the heat emanating from her. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she looked worse than ever. "Jan?" she said quietly.
Janet opened her eyes blearily, and tried to focus on Sam. She was feeling awful, she couldn't ever remember feeling this bad. She thought that it was Sam in front of her, but she couldn't be sure. Her head pounded, and her stomach was doing somersaults. She felt a hand run down her cheek, and relaxed fractionally. That was Sam's touch. Nobody else had hands like Sam. Soft, tender and more loving than Janet had ever experienced. "Sam?" she croaked.
"It's me," Sam's voice was soft. "You don't look so good, baby," she continued, keeping her voice as quiet and calm as she could. "I'm gonna call Frankie. Get her to call in, just in case. Okay?"
Janet struggled to sit up, suddenly feeling horribly queasy. She could feel Sam's hands supporting her. "Don't feel so good," Janet's voice was weak. "Oh God," she swallowed rapidly three times, clamping a hand to her mouth. "Bathroom."
Sam's reactions were swift, and she half-carried Janet to the bathroom. Janet fell to her knees, gripping the side of the toilet bowl just as Sam raised the lid for her. She felt one of Sam's hands placed comfortingly on her back. "Oh God," she said again, a thick stream of saliva trailing from her mouth.
Sam rubbed her back gently, trying to impart some of her own strength. "Let it go, baby," Sam whispered. "You'll feel better once you've thrown up. It's okay, Jan. I'm here, I'll look after you." Sam placed her other hand on Janet's fevered brow.
Janet whimpered at the cool touch, and swallowed again. "I'm sorry," her words were barely discernible. "I...," suddenly a hot torrent of vomit hit the back of the bowl.
"Nothin' to be sorry for," Sam tried to keep her voice calm and quiet. "That's it, Jan, that's good." She felt Janet shaking under her touch, and rubbed her back reassuringly.
Janet moaned, and heaved again violently. She started to cry. "Sam," Janet said weakly, "think something's wrong, think...," she retched again.
"Shh," Sam said, "you're gonna be okay Jan. I'm here, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere. We'll call Frankie. Once you're done," she grimaced as Janet gripped the toilet bowl again. "She'll come over, give you a shot or something. I won't leave you alone for one second Janet, I swear."
Janet's spasming stomach kept her hunched miserably over the toilet bowl for almost ten minutes, and Sam was starting to panic. She desperately wanted to get medical attention for her lover, but couldn't leave her alone to get to the 'phone. Janet was shaking and weak, and Sam was frightened she'd pass out on the bathroom floor. Finally Janet collapsed back into Sam's arms.
"You think you're done for now?" Sam asked her gently.
"Think so," Janet slurred.
Sam carefully got to her feet and lifted Janet into her arms. She carried her back through to the living room, laid her on the couch and pulled the warm comforter back over her. Janet's shaking was worse than ever. "Be right back," Sam promised, and sprinted to the kitchen, where she collected a basin and grabbed her jacket which had her cellphone in the pocket.
She knelt down again by Janet's head. "There's a basin right here, baby," she told her. "In case you feel sick again." She took her 'phone out of her jacket pocket and vaguely noticed that it was flashing, she must have missed a call on it. She dialed the base. "This is Captain Carter," she barked when the call was answered. "Put me through to Dr Michaels urgently, I have to speak with her right away."
In seconds, she was connected. "Sam!" Francine Michael's voice sounded strangely tinny. "I've been trying to call you," she continued.
"Sorry," Sam replied. "I've been with Janet. She's sick Frankie, I need you to come over right away."
"Oh God," Michaels replied. "I was really hoping she wasn't infected."
"Infected?" Sam demanded sharply.
"We don't have the results yet," Michaels told her. "But I'm 99% sure that Colonel Hesketh and Captain Street have meningitis. Janet treated Hesketh this morning for a bad headache, told him to come back if it got any worse. He was brought back in just after she left, collapsed in the commissary apparently. Street came in five minutes later. They're both real sick, Sam."
Sam's blood ran cold, fear striking her dumb.
"Sam?" Michaels asked. "You still there?"
"Yeah," Sam replied after a couple of seconds. "You've gotta get over here now."
"I'm getting my bag right now," Michaels replied. "We'll bring a wagon. What are her symptoms, Sam?"
"She had a real bad headache, severe nausea and a high fever," Sam slipped the thermometer into Janet's ear as she spoke. "Oh my God," she whispered, as the thermometer beeped. "102.1. That's gone up nearly two degrees in a half hour."
Janet twisted under Sam's hand, and whimpered. She suddenly doubled over, and Sam dropped the 'phone as she grabbed for the bowl and held it under her chin as she dry heaved. When Janet was finished, Sam pushed her gently back on to her back.
"Sam?" Michaels' voice came from the 'phone on the floor. Sam picked it up again. "She just got sick again, right?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed shakily.
"I'm getting into the ambulance now, we'll be there in 17 minutes," Michaels said. "Tell me, Sam, does she have a rash? Probably on her torso?"
"I'll look," Sam said. She pulled the comforter down, and unbuttoned Janet's shirt, pulling the sweat-soaked garment to one side. She saw an angry red rash covering Janet's side. "It's there, Frankie," she told Michaels. "It looks real bad."
"Okay," Michaels replied. "I need you to listen to me. It's obviously highly contagious. We're gonna come in all gowned and masked, I don't want that to alarm you. But Sam," she swallowed. "You should leave her, wait for us in a different room. You need to protect yourself."
"Not going to happen," Sam's voice was quiet, but authoritative.
Francine Michaels was not the least bit surprised to hear Sam's response. She was the only one on the base who officially knew about Sam and Janet's relationship, though neither woman had gone to any great lengths to hide it. "Okay, I didn't think you'd go, I just thought I'd try. We'll get you vaccinated straight away of course."
"What can I do to help her until you arrive?" Sam asked.
"Try and cool her down if you can. She should drink something, but she's probably not gonna want to. We'll give her fluids when we get there. Try not to worry, Sam. Janet's very fit."
Sam just nodded, forgetting that she couldn't be seen. "Front door's unlocked," she said in a small voice.
"We'll be there soon," Michaels promised, and then hung up the 'phone.
Sam dashed into the kitchen, and emptied all the ice cubes she had into a bowl, adding water to the top. She returned to Janet, who was whimpering in distress. She insinuated herself so that she was sitting on the couch with Janet's head in her lap. When Francine Michaels and her medical team let themselves into the house, they saw Janet cradled in Sam's lap, with Sam sponging her down with the cold cloth.
Michaels came straight over to Janet, putting a cool hand on her forehead. "She's burning up," Sam's voice was anguished.
Michaels inserted her thermometer into Janet's ear. "Okay," she instructed her team when she saw the result. "Get her on the gurney. Be careful with her," she said, unnecessarily. Janet was a great favorite in the infirmary, and all those who worked with her loved her. She would get the very best, and kindest, care.
"What does it say?" Sam demanded.
Francine Michaels looked her straight in the eye. "102.7," she told her. "We've gotta get her to the infirmary. And fast. Her fever's rising too rapidly."
Sam blinked angrily as tears sprang to her eyes. Janet moaned in pain as she was lifted on to the gurney. She looked round for Sam, and in her delirium couldn't see her. She cried out again, and Sam ran to her side, caressing her cheek. "I'm here, baby, I'm with you," she told her. She turned to Michaels. "I need to go in the ambulance with her Frankie," her eyes pleaded with the doctor.
Michaels put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Of course," she said simply.
Every bump in the road seemed to jar, causing Janet to whimper weakly. Sam sat by her head, holding her hand, stroking her cheek, whispering lovingly to her. They were just entering the gates at the SGC, when Michaels' cellphone trilled. "Yeah," she answered curtly. She listened for a few seconds. "You're sure? Okay. Thank you for letting me know. We're coming in now with Janet Fraiser. Make sure everything's set up."
Michaels turned to Sam, whose expressive eyes betrayed the fear she felt. "I'm sorry, Sam," she said softly. "They've just had the results of the lumbar puncture. It is meningitis."
Sam looked down at Janet, but Michaels could still see hot, fat tears spilling from her eyes. "She's going to be fine," Michaels said firmly. "We're going to throw everything we've got at it. Janet's young, and fit. And she's got a lot to live for," she added, smiling at Sam. "I've never seen her so happy."
Sam looked up at her, utter devastation in her face. "Just make her better," she said in a broken voice. "She has to get better."
"We'll do everything we can, Sam. Everything," Michaels' voice was firm. "I swear to you."
