What if Col. O'Neill's dead? How would I ever console Sam? Janet fretted as she rocketed towards the cells she believed O'Neill and Siler to be being held in. As she neared the end of the continual row of cells she slowed and began opening each door until eventually – and with much relief – she opened a door and was met by a very much alive Sgt. Siler

Thank God!

"Sergeant, are you ok?" His head lifted slowly from his chest and she saw fear change to relief as his brown eyes recognised her. "Doctor Frasier?" He croaked.

Dehydration but no other serious injuries that I can see

Janet analysed the colonel's condition

A lot of cuts and bruises but he's had a lot worse. But if it's only him in here...

"Sergeant, where's Colonel O'Neill?" His eyes blurred and seemed to lose focus for a moment. His tired eyes lost focus for a moment before he managed to whisper "He's in the next cell I think."

"Colonel?" Janet's voice was strained as she scanned the room. She checked behind the door and, sure enough, lying on his right side, unconscious on the cold, hard floor, his pale face still contorted in pain, was Colonel O'Neill. "Oh god?!" Blood had seeped from his mouth and nose and now dribbled down his cheek culminating in a drip of red liquid which consequently dropped to a small crimson puddle on the grey floor. There was a larger blood pool where it ran off his lacerated chest. Janet carefully knelt down beside him. She could not suppress her gasp at the sight of the battered man.

Apophis: that son of a bitch!

She felt for his carotid pulse: weak; and checked his breathing: shallow.

"Colonel O'Neill… Can you hear me? It's Doctor Frasier." No response. "Come on," she muttered, "Colonel I need you to wake up!" All Jack heard was a slightly higher pitched Apophis and not the words. Must be getting agitated if he's getting high pitched! He felt fingers put pressure on his neck Leave me alone already Apophis - or kill me – I'm not saying a word! Jack wanted to scream but his mouth would not obey and simply cracked open and shut imperceptibly. "Colonel, come on, it's Doctor Frasier. It's Janet!" She pleaded. Janet examined the prone figure more closely and noticed the faint movements of his cracked and bloody lips. "Open your eyes Jack." She ordered softly, watching for any response as she felt his pulse for the second time. By this time Siler had managed to shuffle into the cell and now stood taking in the sight of blood spattered up the walls. "I'm not going to hurt you but...Apophis might when he comes back!" A faint wave of recollection rippled over his face and his tired eyelids unclamped themselves and slowly flickered open, a flash of fear was visible before being rapidly repressed. Janet picked up on the fear and regretted frightening the usually calm man but it had done its job.

Jack smiled faintly as he recognized her. Janet smiled back but the grin was replaced with a concerned frown as a pained expression shrouded the man's face – Janet had been gently running her hands over his bloodied and bruised chest. He could not feel one of his arms and tried to tell Janet the problem but again found he had lost the ability to speak. He decided to do it himself and – forgetting the binds – shifted his left arm, his right was unresponsive for some reason – he could not remember why. He groaned as pain shot through his ribs and right arm as the binds resisted his effort and dragged his numb arm underneath him, restoring some circulation. Ah yes the binds...And a dislocated shoulder...at least! Now I remember. He rolled his eyes – Janet thought he might be falling unconscious again and started up another round of '"Can you hear me?"'. Janet noticed the cause of the problem and promptly set about untying the cord thongs. "Doc...aak" Jack croaked, finally able to speak. She carefully manoeuvred his numb arm, trying to discover the extent of the damage to it.

I need to fix that shoulder.

"Colonel, your shoulder is dislocated. I need to put it back in."

"I know...is...is Siler 'k?"

"He's ok sir, in fact, he's right here colonel." She turned to the sergeant, "I need you to hold him down while I do this." He obliged and knelt down next to the injured man.

"Ok on three…This is going to hurt colonel…1…2…3"

You could not hear the grating of bone as Frasier slowly rotated O'Neill's arm in front of him, gripping his hand, over his cry.

You're telling me!

He blacked out again.

Whilst the Colonel was unconscious Janet assessed his major injuries before investigating the lesser lacerations peppering O'Neill's weathered face. One, two inches long and just below his grey hairline oozing sticky blood which had matted his hair and run across his forehead, would undoubtedly require stitching. She noticed the scar just above his left eye which had remained as a reminder of their encounter with The Touched. Col. O'Neill would soon have another scar running almost parallel to the existing one, an inch-long cut dribbled blood down his cheek. She looked over the rest of his battered face and it became immediately apparent that his nose was broken from just the way it was now crooked. Taking advantage of the colonel's unconscious state, Janet quickly gripped it with one hand and manoeuvred it gratingly back into place. She had neither tape nor nasal splints however and so doubted it would heal straight unless someone reset it.

~-~

"Ahhh...Crap!"

"Colonel don't move, you're ok but we're still in Cheyenne Mountain. How'd you feel, sir?"

"Sore…tired…pissed." He took shallow, rasping breaths between each word. Siler, leaning against the far wall, chuckled quietly.

"Perfect military answer. Now, we finished fixing your shoulder while you were out but you still have three broken ribs and a broken nose. Not to mention the two broken fingers and you've picked up on your right hand. I believe your wrist is broken too."Jack grimaced, half in pain, half in fear of all the physiotherapy he would undoubtedly have to endure. "We need to move though. Do you think you can walk?" Siler asked nervously.

Jack grimaced again, "If you can...get me off this floor...my butt's numb!" Siler laughed, "Don't make me laugh…please!" Jack pleaded, his shoulders shook as he struggled to stop himself from laughing and pain shot through his chest and shoulder. The exertion ended in a hacking coughing fit interspersed with spitting out blood. Siler apologized before turning to Janet who was checking O'Neill's pulse again, "We don't want to be here when those bastards get back so can we get a move on, Doctor Frasier?"

"Sergeant, I need a few minutes to determine if his concussion is so severe that he shouldn't be moved." She had not even turned to face Siler but continued checking Jack over. She forced him to sit up against the wall before producing a penlight from somewhere and checked his pupil reactions. "He's ok, his concussion isn't as bad as I feared, we just need a sling for that arm of his," She scanned the room and then pointed to the shreds of green fabric – formerly O'Neill's BDU jacket – "Pass that here, sergeant." In a couple of minutes Janet had rustled up a temporary sling and managed to put it on Jack with only a few grumbles and snatched expletives. Siler stood and offered his hand to the colonel who reached up gratefully with his free and uninjured arm and, despite the excruciating complaints from his injuries, hauled himself up off the floor.

The room spun and Jack would have collapsed had his subordinate not grabbed his shoulders and held him up. His legs were feeble and aching and threatened to give way at any time. His vision blurred, his eyelids barely open, and he felt his head droop to touch his chest. Dr. Frasier, concerned as ever, softly tilted his head back and flashed her penlight once again into his eyes. "Colonel, can you hear me?" She shone her light in his face and immediately came to a conclusion "His lips are tinged blue – it means he's bleeding internally, not heavily at the moment, but enough to cause shock. It could be from the fractured ribs. We need to get a move on." O'Neill's eyes were dull and half closed but he clung on to consciousness as Siler carefully moved into position on his left side with his right arm draped behind the older man's back, hooking it under his armpit. Gingerly, Jack limped to the door – his legs stiff as well as weak – supported Siler.