Title: Another Battlefield
Author: lord_spyridon aka Spyridon
Pairings: N/A
Category: One Shot,
Genre: Comfort, Tragedy
Rating: K+
Size: 996 words
Timeline: Any Season
Warnings: original character death
Notes: N/A
Updated: November 13, 201
As I walk down the halls of the SGC, I think about the lieutenant that had just died. SG-11 had just arrived from P93-M3S2 with Jaffa hot on their heels. The lieutenant has pushed his commander from the line of fire and had taken the staff blast instead.
Colonel Sanders and Major Hawkes had dragged the lieutenant back. He was immediately taken to the infirmary. When I saw the burned flesh beneath the vest, I knew I would be fighting an uphill battle. For over three hours, I tried to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. Warner had arrived an hour in to help me. Two hours we stood, diving in, trying to find the open arteries, the torn veins. The bright red liquid steadily flowed from the lieutenant, his skin getting paler and paler by the second.
We had lost him once. I charged the paddles and shocked him back to life. I look down at my hands. I can still feel when his fingers drifted to mine, the coldness of his skin shocking me. His eyes were filled with acceptance, telling me that it was not my fault and the eyes sliding shut as he died. I was ready to shock him back when Warner grabbed my hand. I just stared at him as he shook his head, not believing that we had lost him.
The fresh shower that I took cleaned me from the lieutenant's blood but it still there, mixing with the other patients' I have lost over the years I've been here.
If you want to know the truth, sometimes I feel that the ones we lost are not really gone. Late at night, when I head home and the halls are empty, I can still see the faces of the dead; Kawalsky with his grin, Mar'touf with his soft voice, Captain Hills and his jokes. There are others I don't know their names. Too many to count.
The infirmary doors are shut. Pushing them open, the first thing I see is Colonel Sanders sitting next to Captain Holden with Major Hawkes sleeping in the chair across from him. I've notice that every team has a bond between all members but not as deep and as close as SG-1's. But nonetheless, it's there.
Walking over, I stand next to Sanders. "Have you noticed any change?"
"Nah, doc. He's still snoring away from the happy juice you gave him." He replied.
I nodded. "He'll be out for the next three hours. You should get some rest."
"I don't think so, doc." I'm thinking the other teams pulled a couple of tricks from the colonel. "I know you mean good and everything but I just lost a man and I need to see that the rest of my team will make it through." I flinched when he said that. He noticed. "I'm sorry, Doctor Fraiser. I didn't mean anything. I know you tried and best and all." He said quickly, guilt marring his ragged features.
"It's okay, colonel. I know that you need that comfort. Just remember, once he wakes up and he tells you he's fine, then I'm ordering you to hit that sack."
"Yes, ma'am."
Giving one last nod, I head to my office. During these times, I need a little comfort to myself. SG-1 and other teams might go through the Stargate and enter unknown battlefields but sometimes there are other battles that are fought. Like the one today; the one that was fought on the operating table. Some, we doctors succeed and like the one today, we sometimes fail. To help fight the pain and suffering the patient is going through and to help him come back home.
My team isn't comprised of alien soldiers, archeologists, Black Ops soldiers. My team is made up of nurses, surgeons, medical doctors, aides, and medics. Our jobs to secure the health of every patient that come through those white doors, to give them our care regardless of who they are under the oath we all swore.
It's painful to see a man die underneath your hands as you try to save him. But it can also be rewarding to see him walk up later and back through the Stargate with his teammates behind him.
Looking through the file, I get a glimpse of what the man might have been; Lieutenant Richard Vincent, a graduate of West Point. No spouse, no kids, no parents, a grandmother that lived in Massachusetts, pretty good rep throughout his career, recommended by a colonel at the base in Georgia. Signing the death certificate, I close his file and place it on my desk. Brushing the stray hair from my face, I glance up when I hear a knock.
SG-1 standing there; Sam in the front with Daniel and Teal'c right behind her and the colonel off to the side, waiting.
"Let's go, Janet. It's almost time for dinner." She jerks her head in direction of the elevator.
"I don't know, Sam. I have a lot of things to do." I say.
Daniel smiles. "Come on, Janet. You've been here all day. We're having our team dinner tonight and we want you to come with us."
"I will drag you out myself, Janet. Despite all the needles you threaten us with." Sam added. Teal'c just stood there, concern in his brown eyes.
Sighing I give in. Reaching out for my coat, I turn the lights off and walk with SG-1 toward the elevator. Daniel and Sam take up positions on either side, Teal'c and the colonel in front. Daniel tells me a joke that apparently Ferretti pulled on Griffs.
I smile as we talk back and forth as we ride up to the surface. Though I fight another battle I'm still part of SG-1 somehow. What ever the reason, I'm glad. Because I know they're always at my back, helping me when I lose a battle. Just like when I'm beside them when they lost theirs.