A/N: Okay, this is a repost of chapter 10, I was unhappy with the ending in the last revision of this chapter. Special thanks to smithcrafter for a swift kick in the pants...oddly enough I got some serious inspiration for winding up the story after that review. Also I recieved a review from someone not signed in,Carol, I have no Idea what you're trying to say. Your comments make no sense in regards to this story. I've never seen the episode shades of grey, and the plot line for this story didn't involve the team mad at Jack and he was sick and Janet(a more distant part of the team) did have to take care of them. Are you sure the review was for this story??? Anyways, cookies to all! Be sure to let me know what you think!

Chapter 10

A slow, orbiting spin. That was the first thing he became aware of, the next being the ache in his body that seeped to his core. He drifted for a long while too tired to climb out of the blanket of darkness. After a time his throat began to burn and his mouth felt stuffed with sandpaper and cotton balls. Malaise plagued him doggedly now, forcing a groan from his lips. Instantly, or perhaps some time later had passed, he wasn't quite sure, a voice floated above him. It sounded very far away to him. It called to him, pulling him away from the darkness. Daniel swallowed thickly and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pried one eyelid open then the other. The world was spinning around him still and terribly blurry. Smudges of colors darkening and brightening like a flickering candle.

"Daniel. Daniel are you with me now?" the voice was feminine, familiar. Daniel lifted his head from the cot to sit up but was pushed back down. Given the fire of pain that erupted throughout his body he was not inclined to try again right away.

"Stay down Daniel, you're in pretty rough shape." Janet. It's Janet Fraiser. Confusion muddle his thinking. He couldn't smell the antiseptic or any smell associated with the infirmary. The urge to discover his true surroundings spurred Daniel on to attempt sitting up again. The thought of hostiles and the lack of memory was all it took. A set of hands pressed him down again bringing dismay to him at how little resistance he could bring against them.

"Janet?" he rasped inciting another burning wave in his throat.

"Hey Daniel. It's nice to see you awake. How do you feel?" The chime in her voice combined the pounding headache and orbital spin was more than Daniel could take. In one clumsy motion he rolled over and began heaving violently. He was faintly aware of a hand rubbing circles, round and round his back, easing the tension in his muscles a little. By the time his stomach gave out Daniel was trembling again and had to depend on Janet to roll him onto his back again he was so worn out.

A cup was pressed against his lips and he drank greedily, numbly surprised to find the warm liquid was a broth. Something in the back of his mind niggled that he'd had enough of water and thought broth was amazing. He was about to drift to sleep again when the cup was taken away but the voice drew him back from the pull of sleep.

"Stay awake Daniel. Just a minute more, that's all I need. How do you feel?" Janet asked dutifully.

'Tired…hurts.." he mumbled eager to go back to sleep.

"How's your vision?" she continued.

"Blurry."

"Could you follow my finger for a minute?" Janet held up a finger in front of his nose and let it drift left and then back to the right before returning to center and letting it drop.

"Daniel, you're supposed to at least try to follow my finger." she reprimanded.

"Too…blurry….can' see it…."he mumbled. Janet sighed not pulling him back from sleep as he slipped into oblivion. Tenderly Janet lifted the bandages to check for signs of infection, pleased to see none still. Daniel was most definitely the better patient for this round of injuries. Then there was the colonel. A loud thump drew her attention to the subjects of her thoughts.

At the other end of the room Jack O'Neill had rolled of his bunk and was staggering and swaying on hands and knees, crawling at a snail's pace, towards the fireplace….again. Her constant worry combined with the exhaustion over holding out, keeping them alive for the week mixed into a deadly concoction of anger and frustration. Mostly directed at the rebellious bad patient Colonel Jack O'Neill. Every chance he got, or was at least slightly lucid, he was on the run..erm crawl, for the fireplace. Sometimes he would be able to slur complaints of being frozen and accusations that they were all out to get him and his handsome self, most of the time he rambled incoherently as he was dragged back to the bunk.

"Colonel O'Neill…." she began, striding towards him.

"No….cold….g'way" he mumbled struggling to crawl away a little faster.

"Now Colonel, we've been over this. You have a fever, you aren't in the least bit cold. It's all in your head." she scolded making a grab for his arm. Jack attempt to jerk away from her, not wanting to lose his run for freedom but clumsily threw himself into her grip instead.

"C'mon, back into bed colonel." she insisted lifting him to his feet, his near dead weight bearing down on her. She didn't hear exactly what Jack mumbled next but she had a feeling that was a good thing. Only O'Neill could manage to be incoherent AND grouchy at the same time. She deposited him on the bunk gently and threatened to tie him down if he got up again. Jack of course had yet to realize that she'd threatened this nearly ten times already and still took her threat seriously. After making sure he'd drifted into sleep again Janet sank into a chair at a small table they brought into the room.

It seemed to take all her energy to eat he food that had been placed in front of her. It wasn't for a lack of appeal that she found it hard to eat for the food was most delicious. She was simply so exhausted, and once she ate she had a great deal of trouble fending off the pull towards sleep. Nearly a week had passed since she'd operated on O'Neill, since he'd woken mid surgery. She could still hear his screams as the pain reliever left his system. She had had to finish, there was no other option. Teal'c and Thomson had to hold the man down until she finished stitching him up. She could still feel his pained trembles under her fingers. Frustrated she shoved the bowl away, a bit of the soup sloshing out.

"You really should eat that." Thomson admonished wiping up the spilled broth, "You're going to need your energy. You're starting to look like them." he jibed pointing at Daniel and Jack.

"Are you lecturing me?" she cocked an eyebrow at him threateningly.

"No, but I am making sure you eat. It's only fair. You're making me and Teal'c and even the sickies eat." Thomson argued. He was pleased to see a half smile appear and Janet pull the bowl back to her. He pointed at the bowl than to her again smoothly.

"C'mon, at least a few bites or I'll make Teal'c come in here and give you 'the stare' I mean it." Thomson threatened. Janet smirked and obeyed. Thomson didn't leave until she had finished the entire bowl. Her eyes drooped heavily and he knew she would resist sleeps pull. He knew dreams were plaguing her sleep. He'd had a few as well after O'Neill's operation. He prayed never to do something like that ever again. Her head dipped then abruptly she yanked it upwards again. It wasn't long before her whole body sank to the table as sleep overcame her.

Thomson tip-toed away hoping not to wake her. He knew this sleep must be the first in a couple of days and he did not want to be the one to wake her. He met with Teal'c out in the hall. Together they went in search of a viable path to the gate. It was still extremely treacherous the terrain. Most of it was soggy enough to sink nearly knee deep at some places. There was little wild life about, nearly all creatures swept well down stream so they didn't have to worry much about predators. Regretfully they returned to the village which had again settled to the earth rather than floating upon flood waters. They would have to remain another night.

00000

Sam paced impatiently. It had been nearly two week she'd been waiting for them to come home. Not knowing whether Jack and Daniel were okay was absolute torture. She chewed her lip as she paced in the control room. How good could they truly be after going over a waterfall? She jumped slightly when the gate activated. At last. She stared eagerly into the shimmering event horizon. It rippled abruptly then disappeared completely. Teal'c and Thomson carried a crudely made stretcher between them with Daniel lying upon it unconscious. Janet stood beside them holding up Colonel O'Neill who swayed severely, clearly barely able to stand. They all had deep dark circles under their eyes, looking gaunt and worn thin.

Janet had to practically drag O'Neill, eager to get him off his feet. A gurney arrived quickly and she forced him upon it, though he feebly resisted her still in a foul mood, annoyed by her mother-henning and eager to be independent once more. Although the carrot of real good meds was just enough to inhibit his resistance, just ever so slightly. They trudged to the infirmary, Janet filling in another medic before collapsing into her bed to sleep for fifteen hours straight.

Sam waited impatiently in the hard chairs in a hall that served as the waiting room. She had been waiting for over an hour now for news. She jumped up from her chair occasionally to pace nervously or would sit chewing her thumbnail. How much longer will this take?! The doctor filling in for Janet while she rested had insisted on opening Jack up again to make sure everything on the inside was okay and to tidy things up a bit more than could be done off world. Daniel was still in post op and she so eagerly wanted to see him. She had to see him to know they were really okay. Sam nearly collided with the head surgeon when he stepped out to debrief her she strode to him so quickly.

"How are they? Did surgery go fine? Will they be okay?" she blurted in a rush. The doctor smiled tiredly, exhausted by hours of endless, tedious surgery.

"Let's sit, it's been a long evening." he shuffled to the chairs with a slight, weary sway.

"Please, are they alright? Did the surgeries go well?" she asked with a bit more patience.

"Someone needs to explain to those two that they are not in a competition to see who can attain the most injuries and live. Honestly, the history with these two." he chided brushing a rough hand across his face and through his hair.

"Yes, they do seem to be in a bit of a competition lately." Sam gave a half smile.

"I think they'll be okay, they had a good deal of broken ribs and other injuries. You can expect them to be off their feet for at least three weeks with the batch of injuries. I think I got them patched up fairly well. Fraiser did a good job on them" he explained.

"Can I sit with them?" she asked stereotypically.

"Jack is just now in post op and won't be ready for about an hour but Daniel should be settled now." The doctor took his leave without another word to freshen up. Sam found Daniel easily and pulled up a chair beside him. He was extremely pale, mottled with bruises tinged sickly with yellow as they had begun to fade already. Even in his drug induced sleep he looked slightly pained and utterly exhausted.

Gently she slipped her hand into his and held it. His hand rested heavily, lifelessly in hers but the pulse she felt in his wrist was strong and steady worked to reassure her that he was alive and would soon be well. The hours slipped by sluggishly and in silence. Jack joined them some time later, heavily sedated, his pulse weaker and slightly thready. Doctors came and went in a meandering rhythm that was common place to the infirmary. Sam was content to let it all happen around her as she sat with O'Neill and Daniel, Teal'c often joining her vigil. The days rolled by slow and peacefully.

Daniel was the first to waken from his drugged slumber. He was disoriented and exhausted to say the least. A few days later Jack awoke in a similar state. Then, after a few more days Jack got cantankerous. Every chance he got he was stumbling towards the door. He hated infirmaries, especially when he was the one infirmed. His only other reprieve from the confines of Janet, now rested and back in her position of power, besides escape attempts was to antagonize, torture, and in every way he knew how annoy Daniel. And then Jackson was released for intensive bed rest at home and his restlessness returned full force.

A single memory occupied his thoughts now. It was of waking to pain, confusion, Janet shouted, hands holding him down, the pain fresh like it were yesterday. He shuddered when he thought of it. Waking during surgery was definitely not on his list of things to do twice in a lifetime. And then his thoughts turned to Janet. No one word had slipped past her lips about the ordeal and the more the thought about it, the more he realized how much more she'd hovered around him than Daniel, and overworked to make sure he was comfortable and recovering properly. Come to think of it, he didn't remember her ever baking anyone cookies, let alone her notoriously worst patient of all, barring Daniel's occasional need to buck for first place.

Jack picked up one of the chocolate chip cookies and examined it closely. Perhaps it was a new ploy of hers to keep him obedient? Sedatives in the cookies maybe? He took a little nibble savoring, to detect signs of drugging of course, and before he knew it had devoured three without ill effect. She was certainly a good cook, but the cookies were normal home made cookies. No secretive drugs or potions in these cookies. O'Neill resolved himself to speak to Janet. She couldn't keep the memory bottled up and leave it unresolved. Memories like that could eat away at a person when locked away in the dark placed of the mind. He waited until Janet was the only person in the infirmary except for himself before he began to pick at the wound.

"So Doc, I hear you're an excellent surgeon even when off world." Janet looked at him sharply. Jack could see just how tired she still was.

"How are you feeling today Colonel? Any lingering pain?" she passed over his comment smoothly.

"You know, I remember waking up. You can't just avoid it Janet." he put out there bluntly. She looked up to stare hard at him now seeing she would not avoid this conversation.

"I was only doing what I had to, there was no way to avoid it." she said in rote.

"I know that and you know that Janet, but it's still eating at you." he pointed out. Janet sank into a chair next to him tired and very aware that O'Neill was not going to let her off easy in this talk.

"I don't know. I know that there was no other way, that I did my best, but every time I close my eyes I see all the blood, and…and I hear you screaming." she stared at the floor her chest constricting painfully.

"Janet, you were only doing what you had to and the circumstances were far from ideal. You know I don't blame you for my waking up….right?" he asked prodding her slightly. She nodded her head sporadically as a few errant burning tears slipped free. Jack did the only thing he knew best at a moment like this when all the answers were known but the hurt still lingered.

Jack gave Janet a cookie.

00000

Daniel stared at the television blankly. He was too tired to do much of anything, but he was bored of everything he had the energy to do. Sighing he shut the television off, tired of flipping channels, and trudged to the kitchen. The only thing left for him to do of any interest was have a snack and try to sleep. He grabbed a sandwich that Carter had made for him, the fridge packed with Carter made sandwiches, and a glass of milk and went to the kitchen table. He sat in front of copies of inscriptions from alien devices brought back on missions. He was so very far behind on his work that he'd decided to take a stab at translating some of the inscriptions.

Hours ticked by and very little progress was made. Daniel knew he was too tired, too early in recovery to really accomplish very much, but despite his lack of progress the intrigue of alien languages held Daniel enraptured. Unknowingly he rubbed at his left eye, occasionally endured bouts of furious blinking desperate to clear his vision.

Still the edges of his vision to the left remained darkened.