Random Acts of Violence
By Mickey

Status: Completed 4/29/2009

Season: 2

Spoilers: Minor ones for Need, Bane, Message In a Bottle, Spirits, and The Fifth Race

Archive Permission: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Word Count: 3,128

Author's Notes: At the end.

Jack breathed deeply as he strolled slowly down his street, taking time to look around and just enjoy the quiet. The last several missions, hell the last several months, had been tough and it was nice just to be able to go for a long, slow paced walk with nothing to worry about. No snake-in-the-head egomaniacs with God complexes bent on universal domination. No angry natives jabbering about sacred something or others or throwing him and his team into mines and trying to turn one of them into her own personal love slave. No alien bugs turning one of his friends into an alien bug, and no slimly little ass-kissing, brown-nosing, rat bastards trying to turn said friend into a lab rat. No alien probes poking holes in him. There were no aliens shooting arrows through the 'gate. No alien devices scrambling his brains and making him speak gibberish. Just a nice, leisurely stroll taken for no other reason than to simply enjoy nature on a beautiful, warm, late spring morning.

He gasped in shock at the sudden, intense pain in his shoulder. The impact spun him around and he felt another sharp pain in his back. He groaned as he hit the ground hard. That was when he realized what had happened. He'd been shot! But a sniper, in Colorado Springs? And who would want to kill him? Okay, so there were a lot of people who wanted to kill him, he'd made plenty of enemies in his time, both before and during his time at the SGC, but they generally tended to be the 'kidnap and torture first' types. He rolled onto his back and bit back a scream as a third bullet slammed into his chest. His body jerked involuntarily. He lay motionless, gasping for breath and waiting for another bullet to strike. It never came.

Praying it was over, that his would-be assassin assumed he'd accomplished his task, Jack fought to breathe. It was getting harder to do. His lungs felt like they were grasped in a vise, and he knew the coppery taste in his mouth was blood. He had the horrible feeling that the last shot had hit his lung. That had to be it.

Jack knew he was in deep, deep trouble this time. Sure, he'd been shot a time or two in the past, but never three times at once and never while completely unprotected. He could feel the blood pooling under his back and on his chest, could feel it sliding over his neck and down his shoulder. His breath was coming in ragged gasps.

"Colonel Jack!"

Jack tried to move to see who was calling him, the voice sounded so familiar, but it hurt too much to move. Even the slightest movement sent excruciating pain through his collarbone. He turned his head slightly and saw Scott, the boy who took care of his yard for him while he was "away", kneeling beside him. Tears were sliding down the kid's face. He wanted to reassure him, to tell the kid he was going to be okay, but every time he tried to talk no words came out. Just blood.

"Colonel Jack, please don't die," Scott said, his voice quivering, obviously fighting to stay calm "I'll be right back. I'm going to get help."

More blood bubbled from Jack's mouth as he tried, again, to reassure Scott. He tried to take a deep breath, but found that was getting harder with each passing minute. Hell, just breathing at all was getting damn near impossible. Scott started to stand, but Jack reached out and grabbed his arm. Again, unsuccessfully, he tried to talk. All that came out was "Phhh."

Luckily, Scott seemed to catch what he was trying to say and started searching Jack's pockets. *Knew that kid was smart,* Jack thought. He tried to concentrate as Scott found his phone and removed it from his pocket.

"Who do I call, Colonel?" Jack would have laughed, if he could, when the kid slapped himself on the forehead and muttered, "911, you idiot."

"D . . . Daa . . . kkk."

Scott stared at Jack blankly than blurted out, "Doctor? Is there a phone number for a doctor you know in here?"

Jack nodded, barely. It was all he could do.

Scott's eyes widened in realization, "The lady doctor from your base!" He waved his hand around as he muttered to himself, "What was her name?" A few seconds later he shouted, "Fraiser!"

Again, all Jack could do was give a small nod. He realized that Scott didn't see it though, already had the phone open and was searching through the phone book. After a few seconds, he'd apparently found the Doc's number. The kid was talking fast, his free hand waving emphatically. Jack could hear his voice, but couldn't make out the words even though Scott was just a few inches from him. His vision was graying, tunneling. Next thing he knew, Scott was leaning over him again. Jack could see the concern in the boy's eyes, but couldn't hear what he was saying. The last thing he saw was the kid's tear-streaked face and then the blackness finally succeeded in consuming him.

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Janet sighed heavily as she pulled the blood-soaked gloves off of her hands and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. It had been close.

Way, way too close.

The colonel had lost a lot of blood and already had already four units of whole blood pumped into him during the long surgery. He was stable enough for the time being, but she knew he'd require another transfusion soon.

Metaphorically speaking, the colonel had dodged the bullet again. By some miracle, none of his major organs were seriously damaged, although he had suffered a punctured lung. The chest tube would have to remain in for a while, but she was glad the surgery was over and that the colonel had come through it remarkably well. Janet was impressed by the EMT's skill. She couldn't have done a better job on the chest tube herself. Because of his actions, the colonel would not need to be intubated, which was a very good thing. He never reacted well when waking up to find a tube stuck down his throat. Instead, the EMT had opted to use an oxygen mask to ensure the colonel was getting enough oxygen.

The colonel was lucky, not only that Scott had heard the shots and had found him so quickly, but also that the teenager had stayed calm and called for help. Thankfully, she'd already been at the Air Force Academy hospital making her rounds when Scott's call had come in. She'd made the arrangements for the ambulance to bring the colonel there and had met it at the emergency entrance.

As she reached the door to the operating room, Janet paused and leaned on it. She needed to gather her thoughts before she spoke to the rest of SG-1, the general, and Scott, all of whom where gathered right outside the door. Taking several deep breaths, she stood up and stepped into the hall to meet five anxious faces.

"The surgery went better than expected," she began. "He's being moved to a room in the ICU right now. Luckily, the colonel is in good physical condition and overall health, despite his dietary choices." The joke got the desired effect as some of the tension seemed to leave the group and each gave a weak smile in return. "He lost a lot of blood and required several transfusions. Likely, he'll need at least one more."

"One bullet hit him in the left shoulder, striking and breaking his clavicle, the collarbone. Usually, we would let the break heal on it's own -which it generally does just fine. However, given the colonel's age and his tendency to push too hard during recovery, I opted to perform surgery to fix the break. A plate was place along the top of the bone," Janet paused as she pointed to her own shoulder to illustrate her point then added, "and screws were used to hold the plate in place. This will align the ends of the bone and hold them together while it heals. There's some pretty nasty bruising and some swelling around the break site, but that's normal.

"Another hit him high in the back on his left side, between the scapula and the spine. The last bullet struck him in the chest, between the fifth and sixth ribs, breaking both of them, puncturing his right lung and very narrowly missing his heart. Like by less than half an inch. He's very lucky." At their astonished looks, she clarified, "The bullet that hit in the back missed both the scapula and the spine. Now, if it had hit the scapula, it wouldn't have been too bad. Less than a quarter of an inch to the right and it would have hit his spine, and we could have been looking at possible paralysis. As it is, there is some swelling around his spine that may cause some temporary paralysis. We won't know about that until he wakes up.

"We removed two of the bullets, but left the one in his back." Before they could ask, Janet explained why the third bullet was left in. "It's too close to his spine. If we attempt to remove it, we could do a lot more harm than good. If it shifts, we may have to remove it, but for right now, it's not causing any trouble."

Janet paused for a minute to let the information sink in then spoke again. "He's still in serious condition, but barring any unforeseen complications, I believe he'll make a full recovery. It's going to be a difficult road though, and it will be at least three months before he's back on active duty." Before they could ask, Janet informed them, "You can see him for a few minutes, one at a time as long as you are quiet." Sensing the impending arguments and pleading, Janet held up her hand to forestall them. "One at a time for a few minutes each. That's it. Tomorrow afternoon you can all sit with him together for a while."

Daniel still looked ready to protest and Janet was immensely grateful when the general stepped in. "Thank you, Doctor," he said simply and fixed Daniel with a stern glare.

Sam spoke up next. "Scott can see him first. His parents are going to be here in a bout an hour to pick him up."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure the colonel is settled in his room. I'll let you know when you can start coming in," Janet said.

Janet turned and walked away before Daniel could say anything further. She tried not to focus on just close they'd come to losing the colonel this time as she walked to his room. By the time she got there, he was settled in and still sound asleep. She knew the anesthetic wouldn't wear off for several more hours at least. When it did start to wear off, the nurses had been instructed to administer a strong sedative. There was no way she was going to take a chance that he'd wake up until after the chest tube was removed, which could take several more hours, or possibly even another day or so. The process was extremely painful and she didn't want to put him through that if it could at all be avoided.

Approaching the sleeping man's bed, Janet made a few minor adjustments to the equipment monitoring him. She then pulled the sheet a little further up on his bare chest. For the time being, both arms laid outstretched at his sides. Once the chest tube was removed, his left arm would be placed in a sling. Even in his sleep, the colonel was rarely still. In order for the collarbone and the bullet wound to heal properly the arm would have to be kept immobile for a few weeks.

Closing the door behind her, Janet exited the colonel's room. As much as she'd have liked to sit with him for a while, it would have to wait until later. She would inform the others that they could start visiting, and again stress that it was to be one at a time and only for a few minutes each, then she had rounds to complete.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm going home now, Colonel, please don't antagonize or hassle my staff," Janet said with a small smile. She chuckled at the "who me?" look on the colonel's face. Truth be told, she knew he wouldn't be doing much of anything but sleeping for at least the next day or two. His periods of lucidity, such as this one, would be few and far between. Even though they had cut back considerably on the analgesia he'd been receiving, he'd lost a lot of blood and it would take time for him to recover from the effects of that. The chest tube had been removed nearly ten hours previously and he was recovering nicely. His arm now rested in a sling. To help keep the arm immobile, a special sling was used which had a strap that held his arm firmly across his chest. It did put extra pressure on his battered chest, but that couldn't be avoided. Unlike his shoulder, surgery on his ribs was deemed an unnecessary risk; they'd heal fine on their own.

By the time Janet reached the door of his room and turned to look at him one last time, he was already asleep.

Janet made it back to her office, barely, before the dam broke and the tears she'd been doing such a fine job of holding back for the last thirty-six hours were finally free to roll down her cheeks uninhibited. She made no attempt to hide them, to hide her relief that, once again, Colonel Jack O'Neill had defied the odds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"The shooter's name is Leonard Eckles. He's a forty-one year old sanitation worked from Manito Springs. No criminal record except a few minor traffic violations. He's in the process of a divorce and has four kids ranging in age from eleven months old to fourteen years old. There's no history of mental illness in his family and no history of violence."

"So, not someone from my assorted past, huh?" Jack joked. The name certainly didn't ring any bells.

"Nope. Apparently he was just some whack job with an axe to grind with the military. Didn't matter what branch either. Anyone in a uniform would do. Before he shot you, he'd shot three Navy men, five in the Army -one of whom was a female-, one other Air Force officer, and one female Marine. One of the Army officers and two of the Navy officers died either on the scene or within a few hours. Oh, and they were all officers. At first the police thought the rank or branch of service was a motivating factor because the first two officers shot were both Army Major's. The next attack nixed that idea though. It was the Marine, who is a Lieutenant Colonel. The female Army Reservist Captain was next. Then came the two Navy officers, an Ensign, and a Lieutenant JG. An Army Colonel was shot two days before you. Then he shot you. His last victim, and the highest-ranking officer of the group, was an Army Major General.

"All of the officers were stationed on bases in Colorado. One of the Navy officers was here on vacation, the other two were on TAD at Fort Carson with the 10th Special Forces Group. The Marine was TAD at Schriever AFB with the 50th Space Wing. The surviving Navy officer and the Marine are still listed in serious condition, but their doctors are expecting them to pull through. All of the attacks happened within the past eleven days."

"He say why?" Jack asked, perplexed. He fiddled absently with the annoying nasal cannula that Fraiser had insisted he needed to wear for at least a few more days. It was, although only marginally so, better than that damn oxygen mask. Grudgingly, he had to admit that it did help him to breathe a little easier with less pain from his broken ribs.

"No, sir. I did an extensive background check on him. He's never been in the military and, as far as I can tell, no one else in his family has either. When the police asked him why he did it, all he said was "officers are scum", repeatedly. I don't see anything in the information I pulled up that indicates he's even had any contact with anyone in the military."

Jack bit back a groan at the sharp pain in his ribs as he tried to push himself up a little higher. It hade been four days since he'd been shot and it still hurt like hell. He waved Carter off as she made a move to help him. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Nothing to indicate an affiliation with any militant or terrorist groups?"

"No, sir," Carter replied. "Nothing like that at all."

"What about the soon-to-be ex? She dating a military man?"

"No, sir, she doesn't appear to be dating anyone at this time. According to the divorce papers, she filed against him citing "irreconcilable differences". It's not really specific as to what those differences are."

Jack could hear the frustration in her voice. "Good work, Carter. Thanks for the update."

"You're welcome. I just wish I could have given you a better answer as to why this happened."

"There is no "better" answer, Carter. It doesn't really matter anyway. Sometimes, shit just happens. All we can do is deal with it and move on."

Carter nodded, "Yes, sir. I know that, it's just so-"

"Frustrating?"

"Yes. I just don't understand why."

"I know how you feel, but we will likely never know why Eckles did what he did. Most likely, there is no logical reason. Let it go."

Carter nodded again, but Jack was relieved to see some of the anger fade.

"So, where are Frick and Frack?" Jack asked with a grin. It got the desired result from Carter as she chuckled at the joke.

Jack was surprised when a sly grin crossed her features and she asked, "In the waiting room, sir, debating over what to have for dinner. Should we sneak you in Chinese tonight, or pizza?"

Staring at his junior officer in shock, it was several seconds before Jack returned the grin. "Pizza, of course," he replied. "And don't forget the beer!"

Laughing, Carter replied, "Don't push your luck, sir."

It hurt way too much to laugh, so Jack merely grinned broadly and replied, "Nuts!"

THE END

Author's Notes: This was written for the stargatedrabbles list's March 13th 2009 challenge, option D: "One of the team members goes for a walk and something happens. What was it? Who did it happen to? Was there more than one team member involved?" Naturally, I chose Jack. This is much longer than I intended it to be. It was supposed to end with Jack lying on the sidewalk bleeding to death, with it being left up to the readers imagination as to whether he lived or not and as to who the shooter might be. My muse decided it needed more, so it was extended with the hospital scenes to show that our intrepid hero once again defied the odds and survived and still leaving the reader wondering who the shooter was. Then the muse decided that, since it had gone that far, I may as well just "finish it". This was the result. Hope you enjoyed it!