Younger than a Dinosaur
Chapter Six: Damage Control
by Leanne Scott
Summary: What does mini Jack do over summer vacation?
Disclaimer: I don't own him, yada, yada. But all the rest of the characters were given to me by the writing muse fairy.
Apologies Dear Readers for the long delay. Following the hectic holidays, I began teaching a new subject, (you students think you have it bad…you don't have to make the tests!). Then when I went back to something I'd written, I hated it. Anyway, after changing character points of view and major revisions, I am content with my effort. I hope you enjoy it and I'll try to post the next chapter sooner than this offering. Thanks again for all your words of encouragement along the way! Dr. Scott
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"Goodnight everyone," Jon said abruptly as he pushed away from the table.
"Come on, man," cajoled his new pal Derrick, "we're celebrating your triumph over that mountain lion!"
"Yeah, too bad you can't get it mounted to display it," echoed the other football player, Dwain.
"Killing isn't something to be celebrated," Jon muttered, "The lion didn't deserve to die." 'Unlike some who deserve it,' he added silently to himself thinking of any number of goa'uld who deserved retribution.
"You were ever so brave," simpered Ashley. She had slowly inched her chair over the course of dinner away from her previous beau Derrick and towards Jon so that she could now easily reach up one of her soft hands and run it caressingly from his wrist to his elbow.
Jon jerked away from her touch like it was an electrical shock, and stepped behind his chair to put it between them. He felt like an old fashioned lion tamer except this female seemed far more dangerous than any feline. He'd rather be back having an honest fight to the death with the mountain lion.
Luckily, he was saved further embarrassment as Dr. Moore stood up from the other side of the table. "Right, it is after nine, and we're going to have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Let's all get some rest," he announced.
In the confusion of the dinner party breaking up, Jon was able to scoop up his things and melt away into the night. He walked away from the bright lights of the lanterns hung amongst the tents, and into the darkness of the hills. He stumbled over a rock as his eyes still hadn't adjusted and was forced to slow down the determined stride he'd taken to escape. The breeze cooled his flushed face, and he sighed with relief to be alone. Except for the bath he'd taken in the river and the short nap in the sun that he'd had that afternoon, people had surrounded him constantly. Despite having spent the last few years feeling lonely and sorry for himself, he was now forced to admit he liked being alone.
Keeping the trickling sound of the river on his right side to guide him, he marched confidently off into the dark and around a bend so that the lights of camp were a mere glow. There was a clearing where the river bent that he had noticed that afternoon. It would be a beautiful spot for star gazing. He spared a glance up and smiled at the carpet of stars like old friends. The crescent moon had set earlier leaving Jupiter as the brightest object in the sky, but it was almost hard to find amidst the Milky Way. Away from the light pollution of the city, it was like a whole different sky. Constellations that were easy to find because their bright stars were the only ones you could see, were now lost in the plethora of twinkling lights.
In contrast to the sleeping bag he dropped unceremoniously from one hand, he carefully set down the Pelican case he'd carried in the other. He unslung the pack he'd carried over one shoulder and leaned over it to unfasten a folding chair sack, but it didn't carry a chair. Instead, he withdrew a tripod and a small camp stool which he quickly set up. Setting the case on the stool, he snapped open the lid revealing the dark barrel of a telescope nestled in the foam. Despite the dark, his fingers nimbly assembled the scope on the tripod, then attached the sighting scope and eye pieces almost like the way he used to be able to assemble his gun blindfolded. Star gazing was one of the few activities of his old life that he had retained, and he quickly lost himself in the stars and his memories.
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"Come on, Susan, it's nothing to be that ashamed of, I mean, fainting would be a normal reaction," remarked Mindy.
"Except for you, of course. You probably think you could have killed that lion, don't you Ms. Athletic!" Susan snapped back sarcastically.
"Hey, what are you getting mad at me for? I'm on your side, remember?" Mindy replied holding her hands up to surrender.
Susan scowled back as she jerked her shoes off to change for bed. The three girls had gone into one of the tents for privacy and were finally discussing Susan's part in the day's heroics after all the boasting by the boys about Jon's feat.
"Who'd have thought a scrawny kid like Jon could have fought a lion and killed it without even getting a scratch? I mean he's kinda cute and all, but you'd never have suspected it. Hmmm, maybe I should reward him with the favors of a lady fair," giggled Ashley, "He definitely has potential. I bet he'd love learning a thing or two from an experienced woman like me."
"Oh, please, Ashley. Keep your claws off Jon. Stick with the dumb football player. He's more your type," Susan hissed.
"What? Some friend you are!" Ashley's voice rose shrilly.
"Stop this right now!" ordered Mindy as she stepped between the two glaring girls. "It's been a long, strange day. You're both friends. Don't say anything more that you'll regret in the morning. Okay?"
"Okay," Ashley shook her head so her hair swung around like some kind of fashion model.
"Susan, you should apologize," continued Mindy.
"Only if she promises to leave Jon alone," Susan persisted in her stubborn stance.
"Ashley?" Mindy asked, hoping to keep the peace between them. It was far too soon in a seven week campout to start a feud over a boyfriend.
"Fine. He's too young anyway," Ashley flipped her hand in the air, "but if he comes to me, who am I to deny him my charms?"
"Susan?" Mindy looked at her with expectantly raised eyebrows.
Susan looked back at her concerned friend and felt all the anger melting out of her, to be replaced with true remorse at her words. Tears filled her eyes as she meekly said, "I'm sorry," then she collapsed in tears onto one of the cots. "I was just so scared, and then I was laughing …and then hurt …and then, oh, I'm so tired and confused!"
"It's okay, honey," said Ashley patting her on the back with true consolation. "It has been a long, weird day. Let's get some sleep. It will all be better in the morning."
The two friends helped Susan change her clothes and led her out to where they had spread their bedrolls under the awning. She followed them wordlessly, her cheeks damp, but no fresh tears falling as she lay down, and obediently closed her eyes.
She listened to the other two girls zipping up their sleeping bags.
To the little rustlings as they tried to get comfortable.
To the sounds of everyone else in camp settling down for the night.
To the soft, regular breathing of her sleeping friends.
To the chirping sounds of the bugs in the night.
To the quiet rustle of the leaves in the trees around the camp.
To the distant trickling sound of the river. Any thing that could distract her from her thoughts about the events of the day.
She had nearly died that morning and he had saved her life. He had magically healed her. She knew it with the certainty of her being.
It had to be true.
Otherwise, she was losing her mind.
Hours of lying there gave her no rest. She had to talk to Jon. Now. In the middle of the night, when they could have some privacy. When the dark of night made dreams possible.
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Jon's keen hearing detected the scuffling sounds of her shoes first. He looked up from the eyepiece and stretched his back after crouching over for so long. He'd really lost track of time. He looked over his shoulder back towards the darkened camp and saw a small circle from a flashlight weaving its way toward him. His eyes had so fully adjusted to seeing with starlight, that the small glow was like a flare and he could easily make out Susan's bundled form. She was wearing her sleeping bag like a shawl around her shoulders, her heels slapping against the back of her tennis shoes as she hadn't taken the time to put them on properly, but had just slid her toes into them like you would with clogs.
The beam of light lifted from the ground and passed over him as she spotted him. Blinded, it was all he could do to stand up without knocking his equipment over and take one step towards her as she ran into his arms.
"Jon, I need to talk to you," she exclaimed.
"I figured as much," he replied, steadying her but then quickly dropping his arms in embarrassment.
Suddenly, face to face, her nerve failed her and she cast the flashlight on the tripod and telescope beside them. "What are you doing?" she asked lamely.
"Here," he grasped her hand and slid his long fingers down hers to switch the flashlight off, "let your eyes adjust a few minutes, and I'll show you."
He held her hand for a minute while her breathing slowed, unwilling to be the first to speak. Anything he might say would be a lie, he'd have to follow her lead.
"Is that Venus down low?" she finally asked.
"No, she won't be up until dawn as the Morning Star. That's Jupiter just about to set. Here, I'll show you the moons," he welcomed the innocent comment and turned to the telescope. He knelt to look through the spotting scope and swiveled the tripod so the telescope was pointing at the Western horizon. He stood to look through the side mounted eyepiece, adjusting the fine focus, and then gestured for her to take his place. "Look down through here," he instructed.
Susan stepped closer and looked curiously through the small opening. The planet was an unmistakable ball with faint lines on it, not just a point of light. "Oooo," she breathed.
"See the small lights lined up in a row? Those are three of the moons. You can't see Ganymede right now, its behind the planet," he explained matter of factly.
"Wow, you're really into this stuff."
"It's a hobby."
Susan straightened, standing close to Jon. His eyes glittered intensely down at her. She caught her breath and let it out in a rush with her words, "Tell me it's true," she implored.
Jon blinked in confusion. No matter how many lifetimes he might be given, he'd never understand the workings of a woman's mind. "Excuse me?"
"When I fell down, I got a big scrape on my leg. It's not there now. The lion bit your arm. I heard the bones crack as they broke. Yet," she grabbed his left hand and lifted his arm, "there's not a scratch now." She clasped her other hand on top of his so that she held it as if in prayer. "I remember the lion attacking me. Tell me you healed me, or, or…I think I'm going insane."
"I…I," he stuttered helplessly. Staring down at her earnest face, he couldn't lie, but he couldn't speak the truth either. Finally, he nodded yes and looked away with a sigh.
"Thank you," she squeezed his hands. "It's so amazing, I almost didn't believe it myself. How…"
He interrupted, "I can't explain it. Not sure I understand it myself."
She reached a hand up and placed her fingers on his mouth as they made eye contact again, "Shhh, I don't need to know how, just that it is true." She slid her hand over to cup his cheek and whispered, "Thank you for saving my life."
"You're welcome," he replied huskily, suddenly acutely aware how close they were standing. His right hand moved to her neck just below her ear and squeezed gently.
She let go of his hand, stepping closer and encircled his waist with a hug as she lay her cheek on his chest. She listened to his heart beat with her eyes closed, finally finding a sound that gave her rest.
Jon held her soft, warm body in a loose hug. As nice as it was, it just didn't feel right. She was a little too soft and a little too short. She wasn't the woman of his dreams. He cleared his throat and pulled back, keeping one hand on her shoulder, "Are you okay?"
Susan stepped back and looked up at his impassive face framed by the stars, realizing that the moment was gone. They could never be more than friends. She smiled though her eyes filled with tears, and nodded not trusting herself to speak.
Looking down at her, Jon cursed his fate. In her eyes, he was an eligible young man only a few years her junior. But he couldn't help feeling like a dirty old man himself, because in so many other ways he was old enough to be her father. Just when he was starting to adapt to his new life, he'd be reminded that he'd never really ever fit in with the X-generation. Suddenly uncomfortable with her staring at him, he coughed and shifted, nervously dropping his hand and looking away. "Look, I'd appreciate it if you won't tell anybody about…" He gestured awkwardly, and risked a glance at her to see how she was reacting. He was so bad at this touchy, feely stuff.
She smiled at his awkwardness. He reminded her of her little brother. She winked conspiratorially, "About what?"
He smiled back in relief, then looked back up at the sky and the new patterns of stars in the East that had risen since he had started star gazing, "It's getting late. I better walk you back to camp." He gestured toward camp and led the way into the dark.
Susan shivered and nodded, realizing she had dropped her sleeping bag when she had seen him and had run to him in desperation. She was feeling better now that she knew she hadn't imagined everything, but she was still curious about the uncommonly chivalrous young man walking beside her. He leaned down, shaking the dirt off the sleeping bag as he scooped it up and then wrapped it over her shoulders. "Do you need help packing up your telescope?" she offered.
"Nah, I'll come back," he turned to keep walking, but she reached out her hand to hold his arm.
"Can I stay out here with you?" she asked shyly.
"Umm, won't that look kind of bad?" Jon asked uncomfortably.
Susan laughed lightly, "You're so old fashioned! The only thing that would happen is that Ashley would be jealous." Even in the dark she could see him wince at the mention her name. "She'd probably leave you alone if we let her assume things."
"Really?" he asked hopefully. Then he shook his head, "No, that's not fair to you. I mean, you're a nice girl and all, but I already…I mean, well, I don't…umm," he flustered.
"Jon," she stopped him, "We can just be friends. I'm not saying we have to do anything."
He looked at her with relief that was almost comical.
"I'm exhausted and just want to sleep where I know I'm going to be safe," she explained.
He studied her quizzically. "I've just confirmed to you that you did indeed survive an attack by a mountain lion this morning and you want to sleep out here in the wilderness away from the safety of camp?"
"I'll feel safe if I'm with you," she admitted softly.
He shrugged in embarrassment and looked off in the dark thoughtfully. 'Right, I've got a new team to build and watch out for now,' he thought to himself. 'Besides, keeping Ashley from chasing me would be a good thing for the team too,' he rationalized.
"Right this way, m'lady," he turned out of her grasp and gestured with a low bow back towards his telescope. "I'm afraid the Presidential Suite is unavailable, but we have managed to reserve this fine room with a view," he joked.
Susan laughed happily, her spirits considerably brightened as she followed him back the few yards and let him help spread out her bag next to the telescope She zipped herself in, as he unrolled his own bag and spread it out next to hers Sitting cross legged on top of it, he began to unlace his high top hiking boots. "I feel safer here than I would anywhere else on Earth," she said earnestly. He looked down at her with a smile.
Looking up at his face silhouetted against the Milky Way, she gave a little gasp. Ordinarily, she would scoff at such an idea, but after everything that had happened today extraordinary thoughts seemed appropriate. She pushed herself up to lean on her elbow, "My god! Are you from outer space?" she asked.
He stared down at her for a moment and then burst into to laughter. If she really knew the truth she would never feel safe again, so the only thing to do was to put on his best high school kid act. Catching his breath he gave her one of his biggest smiles, "No, I'm from Minnesota. I just work in space," he joked, going for as absurd an answer as he could think of.
"I'm sorry. What a stupid thing to say," she groaned and buried her face in her hand. Slowly, giggles bubbled up from behind her hand until they seemed to launch it out to hit him on the shin. "You got the line wrong. It's 'I'm from Iowa. I just work in outer space.'"
"Umm, yeah," he replied a little confused.
"Which Star Trek movie was that from again?" she asked still giggling.
Jon racked his brain for the memories of team nights gone by, recalling the years of science fiction movies Teal'c had tortured him with. "Oh! It was the one with the whales," he started laughing harder, realizing he wasn't as clever as he thought he was.
He tucked his long legs into the sleeping bag and settled down on his own elbow to look her in the eyes as the chuckles died down, "We good?"
She nodded and tucked her hands under cheek as she settled back under the covers, "Goodnight Jon," she sighed.
"Goodnight," he whispered and watched her trusting eyes close. Within minutes she was sound asleep, finally finding the rest both her body and soul had needed.
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Major General George Hammond, retired, found himself once again in uniform. Granted it was a little rumpled from traveling all night long, but he found it helped smooth the way when one was in a hurry. People responded with so much more alacrity when they saw all the stars. Standing at the nurse's desk in the foyer of the military hospital, he was using its power to get him admitted to the wards before visiting hours.
"I understand that you've been traveling, sir," she was explaining patiently, "but the patients need their rest."
"I don't intend to disturb him. I simply need to sit nearby. It's a tradition with our unit. Someone always sits by the beside so that you never wake up alone." He tried to give her a charming smile, but was afraid that his exhaustion was turning it into a grimace.
She looked at the grandfatherly man before her and sighed. It was almost the end of her shift, why did this always happen to her. It would be smooth sailing into the 7 AM shift change if he would just go away. "Promise to be quiet?" she demanded.
"Like a mouse," he reassured her.
"Okay, let's see, O'Neill is in room 327. Elevators on your left, sir."
"Thank you very much," he called as he hurried away before she could change her mind.
Stepping out of the elevators, he was immediately spotted by the duty nurse who rose to her feet and waited expectantly for him to walk up to her desk. "Visiting hours begin at 9:00 AM," she stated, looking like she dared him to contradict her.
'Not again,' Hammond thought to himself. He decided on trying the passive aggressive approach. "Yes, ma'am," he gave her what he hoped was a friendly grin, "except for three star generals," he added.
She sized him up and then nodded briskly, "Who are you checking up on?"
"O'Neill in room 327," he responded trying to be helpful.
"The patient with the guard," she said looking curiously at him, "He must be a pretty important man. His doctor is Ian Butler, you know."
"I guess not many have the same personal physician as the President of the United States," he smirked back. "Has Ian been in yet?" Hammond asked casually deciding to impress her with all his connections.
She stood a little straighter realizing the man with all the stars on his jacket was the real deal and she needed to show proper respect. "He should be in soon. He came by last night and picked up the test results, and he indicated that he would be back after he had a chance to look at the patient's medical history."
Hammond winced imagining Dr. Butler looking through the stack of reports that he knew were in O'Neill's file.
She misunderstood his look and thought he was offended that the doctor wasn't already there. "It was probably hard to get access to files in the middle of the night," she offered, loyally trying to cover for the doctor.
Hammond smiled and waved a hand at her, "It's okay. I understand. Has General O'Neill woken up yet?"
"No, sir, as far as I know, he's been unconscious since he was brought in yesterday afternoon."
"Be thankful for small favors," he said cryptically with a grin. "Down that hall?" he asked pointing in a direction that the room numbers got larger. She nodded mutely. "Don't worry, I'll just sit with him and be as quiet as a mouse," he reassured her and strode off quickly.
He followed the signs to the left and wound around the hallway to the designated room where a bored looking airman stood at ease next to the door. The young man's eyes bulged at the stars on his jacket and he snapped to attention with a rush of adrenalin. "Good morning, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but I'll have to see your identification, sir," he demanded with a sidelong glance to see how his speech was received.
Hammond smiled with gratitude, "Glad to see you're on duty, son." He pulled out his wallet and showed his identification badge to the airman, who nodded with relief. "Has anyone tried to see the patient," asked Hammond curiously.
"Other than the nurses? No, sir," the man reported.
"As you were," Hammond ordered with a nod. He pushed the door open quietly, immediately hearing the quiet bleeping of monitoring machinery. A cabinet light left on low to aid the nurses on their rounds during the night lit O'Neill's profile on the pillow. He walked quietly into the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he approached the bed.
A snort startled him and he realized there was another person in the room. He peered more closely into the corner and realized Major Davis was folded into a chair, asleep with his chin on his chest. Smiling with pride at the man's devotion, he rounded the bed to the straight chair pulled next to it and sat down heavily with his eyes on the patient. "What have you gotten into now, Jack?" he muttered softly.
Hammond stared down at O'Neill's face. The hair had grayed, and the lines deepened, but time had been kind. More so than it had been to himself, he mused as he rubbed his own bald head. Memories of all the other times he had looked down on O'Neill as he recovered from battle injuries, alien viruses, and withdrawal from Ba'al's sarcophagus flashed through Hammond's mind. The man had survived on sheer will alone on so many occasions. After all the trauma, how could he simply collapse with no apparent cause?
"General?" a voice interrupted Hammond's thoughts. "Sir, I didn't expect to see you until this afternoon."
Hammond looked over at Major Davis pushing himself out of the chair to stand at attention., "At ease, son. I'm retired remember?" He stood up and carried his own chair over to the big chair Davis had been sleeping in. "Let's talk over here so we don't disturb him," he inclined his head toward O'Neill. He settled down and Davis sank gratefully back down in the chair rolling his head to loosen his sore neck. "I'm surprised to see you still here, Major." Hammond continued.
"Well, the Team would never have left him alone," Davis offered with a shrug.
Hammond could hear the capital T in team and knew exactly to what Davis was referring. "They're more like family to each other," Hammond agreed with a smile. "And I'm sure Jack would be glad you had his back covered. I'm glad you were there and called me," he patted Davis on the shoulder. "So, Major, what exactly happened? What have the doctors told you?" Hammond turned more formal and looked like he was ready for a briefing.
Davis scowled and shook his head slightly, "Believe me, sir, I've thought about this a lot already, and I can't think of any explanation. We were having a meeting at the Pentagon. General O'Neill seemed a little distracted, but really not any worse than usual. Oh, I don't mean to be disrespectful, uhh, I mean he…"
Hammond chuckled, "I understand. Jack never was the most attentive person in a meeting. Go on."
"Well, he suddenly stood up and slapped his leg as if grabbing a gun and he was looking right past us all like there was some terrible creature about to attack. I thought for a moment it was Retoo, but he seemed to snap back and looked quite embarrassed. I helped him back into his chair and took his pulse. I can't explain it, sir, it was racing like he was in battle. Suddenly, he shouted 'Kree' and knocked me down as he flung out his arms and he's been unconscious ever since. Do you think he was having flashbacks, sir?"
"I hope not. It would ruin his career. Although, if anyone else had experienced all that he's been through, then we should expect that possibility. But not Jack. He has too strong of a personality, and he cleared all his psyche evaluations. Even if that is the case, why now? What event would have precipitated such a flashback?"
Davis nodded thoughtfully back, "I thought the same thing. Do you think someone could have drugged him somehow to induce hallucinations?"
"Well, you tell me. Did he eat or drink anything in the meeting? Was there anyone there with a grudge against him? Who else was in the meeting with you? "
"I had lunch with the General, sir. He seemed perfectly normal. We talked about The Simpsons, of course. Then we went together to the meeting with Colonel Wesley and the rest of the Homeworld Security team. I'd trust any of those men with my life, sir," Davis replied earnestly.
Hammond nodded thoughtfully, "And he did too. O'Neill handpicked each of you to be on his team."
"He did, sir?" Davis was amazed. "I didn't know that."
Hammond's reply was interrupted by the door opening and the duty nurse he had spoken to earlier bustling into the room. She nodded to them and efficiently set to taking notes of the patient's vital signs on the clip board at the end of his bed. "Did you notice any change?" she asked politely looking over at Davis.
He shook his head as the door opened again and a distinguished looking man with a neat mustache and wearing short doctor's coat peered in. "Nurse, can you tell Him," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "that I can come in?"
"Ian," Hammond called out, rising from his chair and extending his hand. As they shook hands he reassured the guard, "Airman, this is Dr. Butler. He definitely has permission to enter."
"Yes, sir," replied the airman and he closed the door.
"This is Major Davis. Dr. Butler," Hammond made introductions as the other two men shook hands.
Dr. Butler turned to the bed and looked curiously down at the man seeming to be sleeping peacefully. "So this is the famous O'Neill," he exclaimed.
"Haven't you met before?" asked Hammond in surprise.
"Well, we've spoken on the phone and he has had several appointments for exams, but he's always had to reschedule."
"I'm not surprised at that," Hammond replied drolly, "I had to order him for physicals regularly. So what have the tests determined? What's wrong with him? And when can we expect him to regain consciousness?"
Dr. Butler picked up the clip board and ran his finger down the columns of numbers, "Nurse, are these the latest vitals?" he asked pointing at the bottom row.
"Yes, Doctor," she replied from the window where she had moved out of the way and was currently opening the blinds to the early morning sun that shone butter yellow into the room.
"Thank you. You may go," he replied politely, but dismissively.
She nodded and quickly left pulling the door closed again.
"So?" Hammond asked impatiently.
"He's suffering from all the classic symptoms of exhaustion coupled with malnutrition. His blood glucose and triglycerides are all off, as well as his electrolyte levels. Its like he's just finished running a marathon, and we all know he was just in meetings at the Pentagon. It's possible he's having a nervous breakdown and just not caring for himself properly," announced the doctor.
"What?" exploded Major Davis, "That's impossible! You're talking about General O'Neill here. Besides, I had lunch with him myself."
"Well perhaps he is purging after eating. Yes, bulimia would fit some of the symptoms," replied Butler rather thoughtfully.
"No, Ian. I agree with Davis. O'Neill would never allow himself to get in such shape."
"Logical behavior is one of the first things to go when one has a breakdown. Quite frankly, George, after what I've been reading tonight I can't believe this man is alive at all. It's a wonder he hasn't had a breakdown sooner."
"No," asserted Hammond again. "Doctor, did you do any toxicology tests? It's more likely he's been drugged."
Dr. Butler began to bristle as the General faced off with him. "Of course we did," he snapped. "I ordered a full battery of blood tests. We've done X-rays, CAT scans and heart monitoring. He's in remarkable shape for a man of his age, but there's no denying his blood work is off. He is exhausted and he needs to be ordered to rest," he concluded.
Hammond took several breaths obviously counting to ten, and resumed more calmly, "So what measures are you taking to help his recovery?"
Butler gestured to the IV line dripping into O'Neill's arm, "We've been giving him glucose saline supplemented with vitamins and minerals to get his levels back to normal. Actually, he should have woken up by now."
They all looked down at the man in the bed illuminated with the morning sun like a spotlight on his face. "Hey, he turned his head," Davis observed.
"Well, perhaps the treatment is working after all," replied the doctor smugly. "I need to check in with the staff, before I leave. I'll check back on him later this afternoon, but I think my orders will simply be bed rest and a healthy diet. General Hammond, Major Davis," he nodded formally at them both and let himself out of the room.
"Sir, he's wrong," began Davis.
"He's one of the best doctors around and has full clearance to know O'Neill's medical history. I have to admit the possibility that he's right," sighed Hammond.
"No. I forgot to tell you something. I'm sorry, sir. I had just woken up and forgot about it until now." Hammond looked up with hope and curiosity. "When we were leaving the Pentagon, Colonel Wesley made the ambulance drivers change destinations. While he was talking to them, I was standing by the General and the sunshine seemed to revive him somewhat. Although, he muttered complete gibberish I tried to write down what I heard." Davis pulled his little notepad from his shirt pocket. "Leo-ness-neck-o-r-ray. Ego fact us door me-o," he recited awkwardly.
"Ego factus…" murmured Hammond as he looked over at the writing. That sounds Latin, or perhaps Ancient." He looked thoughtfully over at Davis, "This puts a whole new spin on things. We need Dr. Jackson here. If Jack wakes up spouting more of this, Daniel will be the only one that will be able to talk to him."
TBC