AN: Thanks again for all the support for this story. A gentle reminder that warnings are still in effect for language and topics.
***SG1***SG1***
"I'd like to go back to my quarters."
Glancing up from the chart in her hand, Janet looked at Sam and frowned. Mentally noting the paleness of her features and the nervous twitching of her fingers against the blanket, she slowly closed the chart. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said flatly. A glare had her add, "You can't keep isolating yourself.
"I'm not," Sam protested, trying to ignore the jab of conscious at the lie.
Easing on the side of the bed, Janet looked at her. "It's normal for you to want to," she said softly.
Blowing out a breath, Sam nodded. "I just need..."
Janet tilted her head in encouragement when Sam didn't finish her sentence. "What?"
Running her hands through her hair, Sam shook her head and gave a tight smile that bordered on a grimace. "Nothing. I'm fine."
Shifting the chart in her hand to the bed, Janet stated, "You talked to Colonel O'Neill last night." A nod confirmed the statement. "You've been restless all morning." A shrug acknowledged the accuracy of the statement. "Those two have anything to do with one another?"
Licking her lips, Sam pinched the cover between her fingers before letting it go and smoothing it. "He made up his mind about something last night," she said slowly. "He sat for hours watching me. Then he asked if he could go back to his quarters."
Not sure what Sam was getting at, Janet waited.
"He knew I was awake but he didn't say anything," Sam added, her eyes flickering to Janet. Clearing her throat, she shifted nervously. "Earlier, I made him promise to fight against them bringing charges, to defend," she winced at the word. "Explain," she amended, "his actions." Looking away, she added lowly, "He was angry when he left."
Looking down, Janet nodded. "And you think he was angry with you?" A grimace answered her. Patting her leg, Janet stood and picked up the chart. "Colonel O'Neill is dealing with a lot of things right now," she said carefully. "I seriously doubt that being mad at you is one of them."
***SG1***SG1***
"You obtained a weapon," Colonel French cited from the report under his hand. Looking up, he said, "How?"
"No one expected us to get out. No guard outside the door. We wandered about a bit but finally found an exit," Jack explained. "There was a guy with one there," he gestured as if the rest should be evident.
"Did you exit?"
Jack shook his head, shifting. "Wasn't sure if Hitch and Shelby were still in there."
"Wouldn't it have been better to get Major Carter to safety first? You were keeping her in danger for the sake of two men who for all you knew could be dead."
Brown eyes snapped up toward French. "We don't leave people behind." The terse words spoke of an absolute.
"Major Carter was in agreement?" Nelson asked, drawing Jack's attention.
"She knows that," Jack said gruffly.
"You had a severely injured team member with you," Nelson stated. "Did it occur to you that you were risking her life by not taking the opportunity to get her out? She could of had internal injuries."
Shifting, Jack fought against the urge to bark out the words that jumped in his mind. Yes, he knew that Carter could have internal injuries. Yes, he knew that he was risking her by staying. Yes, it took everything he had to not bundle her out that damn door and say to hell with the other two. "We don't leave people behind," he gritted out instead, glaring. He froze when he caught a subtle hand gesture occur between the two men.
"When you came back, you and Major Hitch were armed. Captain Shelby and Major Carter were not."
The sudden shift made Jack's eyes narrow and the hair on the back of his neck raise. "Made sense at the time," he said evenly.
"The Armory report indicated three guns were checked in," Nelson noted, raising his eyes from a report. Brown eyes watched him but gave nothing away. "I understand that Shelby was barely conscious, but why didn't Major Carter have one?"
"As I said, made sense at the time."
Frowning at the flat tone, Nelson sat back in his chair. "Was she helping the Captain?" Shuffling papers, he added, "When you came through the gate, Hitch had him."
"What's your point?" Jack asked sharply, an edge of command to either move on or ask what he really wanted to know in his voice. He watched as another subtle gesture occured.
"How did you find SG10?
Jack's eyes flickered toward French at the deflection. "Heard someone talking about taking them something to eat. We followed."
"And the GDO?"
"Earlier, when we were searching, we found the Mayor's office. It was in there with some guns."
"And he just let you have them, no questions asked." Skepticism laced the words.
"I didn't give him a choice," Jack growled, his fist clenching.
"Did you shoot him or do you simply enjoy the feel of someone dying in your hands?"
Jack's eyes flashed at the flippant question as a tick appeared in his temple from the force of the pressure on his jaw. Flickering his eyes between the two men, he forced himself to lean back in the chair. Narrowing his eyes, he assessed the two men in front of him. This was far bigger than who did or did not have a weapon or how he had obtained them. After a moment, he spoke. "Combat situation, known hostiles, enemy territory. One already injured, two dead, two others missing. Best case, they're just injured, worst case, dead. You've had the crap beat out of you, ribs probably cracked, pissing blood. You know enough to realize your mind has been compromised by some unknown substance but details are fuzzy and concentrating is a bitch. No indication reinforcements are coming. Someone sits between you and your only hope of getting what's left of your team home. You have six bullets and an unknown number of hostiles between you and the gate. What do you do, Colonel?"
The challenge hung in the air.
***SG1***SG1***
Hearing a knock on his door before it opened, Jack picked his head up from the pillow to determine who was coming. Rolling to his feet at the sight of the General gaining access, he nodded in greeting. "Sir."
"Jack," George replied, setting a small handled bag on a table by the door. "How are you doing, son?"
Gesturing for him to take the chair, Jack sank back to the bed. "I'm good, sir," he said, his voice holding a tightness in it that belied the words. "Going a little nuts here," he added, gesturing to the room.
George knew him enough to know the truth of that statement. Jack O'Neill did not handle doing nothing well. "Won't be for much longer," he assured the younger man. Waiting a moment, he continued. "Tom and Al have been keeping me apprised of their progress."
An eyebrow twitched at the use of first names. This was an unofficial visit.
Glancing back, George got up and moved to the bag by the table. Pulling out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, he held them up to Jack. "Join me?"
Standing, Jack quipped, "Okay, but if the General finds out we're drinking on base, you're taking the blame."
Chuckling, Hammond poured two fingers into the glass in Jack's hand. "Oh, I think I can handle him. Doctor Fraiser now...," he trailed off, seeing the answering humor in Jack's countenance.
Sinking back into the chair, George watched as Jack swirled the drink in the glass. "Something on your mind?"
Flickering eyes toward him in response, Jack focused again on the amber liquid. "Sir, what did the Pentagon say when they told you they were sending someone out for an inquiry?"
Thinking, Hammond shook his head slowly. "Nothing unusual. Two officers coming to look into Lieutenant Faber's death. It's normal when there is a death in a non-combat situation."
Acknowledging that the inquiry itself was not unusual, Jack continued. "And French and Nelson? Know anything about them?"
Tipping his head, George read the tension on his second's body. "What's going on, Jack?"
Jack gave him a half shrug. "Something," he shook his head, "feels off, sir. Like this is about more than Faber." A questioning look had him adding, "What they're asking, focusing on."
"Like what?"
"My decisions, motives," Jack breathed out. A frown crossed his face.
"Sam," George hazarded, noting the slight nod. "We knew your connection could be seen as a problem."
Taking a sip of the whiskey to fortify himself against the possible answer, he asked lowly, "Do you think it is, sir? Do you think I've lost my objectivity? My ability to do my duty when it comes to her?"
Pursing his lips, George looked at the glass in his hand. "I think," he said slowly, "that right now, given your past experience and what has happened recently, that you are the only one who can answer that Jack."
Brown eyes raised toward him. "But they're going to decide it for me, aren't they."
The slight movement of Hammond's head gave Jack the answer.
***SG1***SG1***
Sighing, Sam laid down the fork she had been using to push food around on her plate. Dinner was no more appealing to her than breakfast or lunch had been. The action brought dark eyes toward her.
"You have eaten very little today, MajorCarter. Your body is healing. It requires additional sustenance to facilitate this," Teal'c stated matter of factly.
The words irritated her. Shoving the table away, she glared at him. "I'm not hungry," her tone dared him to say something else about it.
Tipping his head at her, Teal'c watched her silently.
Shoving aside the covers, Sam shifted to the side of the bed, her back to the Jaffa. "I'm going to the bathroom," she announced gaining her feet and moving away as fast as she could. Seeing a nurse head towards her, she held up a hand to stop her. "I'm perfectly capable of doing this by myself, Lieutenant."
Shutting the bathroom door, Sam leaned her forehead against it to fight off the unexplained anger that was coursing through her. She just needed a few minutes to not think.
Sam snorted at the thought. Turning around she leaned against the door, allowing the cold to seep through the white infirmary clothing.
What she really wanted, needed, was for things to go back to normal. To like it was before. Moving her head, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
The person looking back at her was no longer Doctor Major Samantha Carter, expert marksman, theoretical astrophysicist, second in command to the most elite team on the planet. This was Sam Carter, helpless, scared, vulnerable. A victim.
The sound of the mirror breaking brought pounding on the door.
***SG1***SG1***
Watching as the door of the elevator opened, Janet nodded to the security force escorting the visitor to let them know she would take it from here. "Doctor Rogers? Major Janet Fraiser, chief medical officer," she said, stepping forward to greet her.
"Doctor," Tiffany said, her curiosity peeked by the location and means of access.
"Thank you for coming," Janet said, starting them walking. "General Hammond is waiting."
Walking through the halls, Rogers instincts told her that this facility was more than it seemed. She had spent enough time on bases in her career to know that the location and security screamed top secret. Following the shorter woman into the office, she instinctively straightened her shoulders when the General rose to greet her.
"Sir," Janet stated, "Doctor Tiffany Rogers."
"Doctor," George said, extending his hand in greeting. "Thank you for coming. on such short notice."
Quirking an eyebrow, Rogers bit back a chuckle. "It was a bit hurried," she acknowledged, humor lacing her tone. Sobering she added, "I understand however that the situation warranted it."
Nodding, George sat down gesturing for the two women to do the same. "Doctor, the soldiers of this base have gone through, well, quite frankly, things that no one should have to experience." Flickering his eyes towards Janet, he continued. "A recent event has taken a toll on some of my best officers and Doctor Fraiser has assured me that you can be of help to them."
"I can try," Tiffany answered, her eyes flickering between the two people. "If you could explain more..." she trailed off, at the hand movement by the General.
"Doctor Fraiser will give you full access to anything you need. But first," George picked up a stack of papers from his desk. "I will need you to complete some paperwork and be briefed on the workings of this base."
"Of course," Rogers said, glancing at the security access designation form on the top. "In case you are not aware sir, I currently have level nine clearance."
Smiling tightly, Hammond nodded. "The President has authorized it be raised to the level necessary here."
The statement caused a shiver to run down Tiffany's back.
"Ah, Doctor Jackson," Hammond stated, glancing behind the two women. "Doctor Tiffany Rogers, Doctor Daniel Jackson," he said as the two individuals shook hands.
"Thank you for coming," Daniel murmured to her.
"Doctor Jackson will be briefing you on what we do here," George stated, explaining his presence. "He is also extensively involved in the situation you will be dealing with," he added, his tone softening as a flicker of sadness passed over his face. Removing it, he smiled tightly. "I'll leave you to his capable hands," he added, nodding to the newcomer.
"Shall we?" Daniel said. Waiting for Doctor Rogers to rise, he looked toward Janet. "Bring her to...?"
"My office," Janet said, knowing Daniel meant after he was done briefing her. Waiting until the pair was gone, Janet brought her gaze back to the General. "Thank you sir, for getting her here so quickly. I thought it would take days, not less than twenty four hours," she admitted.
"Any change with Major Carter?"
Shifting, Janet looked down. "Agitation, anger, denial, sadness, restlessness. She pulled the bathroom mirror off the wall and broke it a little bit ago," she sighed. "She didn't hurt herself," she added seeing the General's concern.
Nodding, George sat back. "Sounds like Jack was in fine form today also. Gave Nelson and French all they wanted to handle."
Janet pursed her lips. "He can be a handful," she said wryly, a twinkle of humor in her eyes.
Chuckling, George nodded. "But worth every penny."
"How much longer, sir? Until the inquiry is finished?"
Sobering Hammond sighed. "At least one, maybe two more days." A frown creased his forehead. "They're pushing hard on him."
The look on his face and his words brought Janet's shoulders back. "You think there's something else going on here." Her tone was cautious.
Sighing, George looked away before looking back at the doctor. "It's possible."
***SG1***SG1***
AN2: I always liked General Hammond and appreciated the complex relationship he had with Jack - commander, mentor, friend. Hopefully, I managed to capture a little bit of it here.