Author's Notes: I was gonna wait another few days before updating but I decided that now felt like a good time lol. So here you go.
Chapter 14: Broken Hallelujah
Daniel shook himself from the daze and tilted her head back, wove his fingers together, one palm flat to Vala's now unmoving chest and pressed, hard.
Jack could hear mumbled counting under Daniel's breath "...two... three... four... five..." one hand cupped beneath her chin and the other atop her head, his mouth locked onto her's forcing air into Vala's unresponsive lungs. Two fingers to the neck, no pulse "... three... four... five..." his hands slipped and slid in the blood caked clothing, it was sticky at the same time as wet and there was far, far too much of it. He pulled back from her mouth again, his eyes fading from brilliant blue to a saddened and desperate grey as her heart still refused to beat on it's own.
Furious at his sitting there doing nothing Jack knocked Daniel's hands aside as they went to continue the compressions, their eyes met for barely half a second before Jack took over that task, pausing every five counts for Daniel to breathe into her mouth. Twice they tried before a faint flicker of a pulse was detected, no sooner had the ripple of relief hit them were they pushed aside as medics from the SGC, Carolyn included took over.
"I need to get her on oxygen," Carolyn cried, checking the pulse for herself, as the nurse, ahead of her, attached the mask to Vala's ashen face, brushing her hair aside. "Ten CCs of epinephrine," she stated, inserting the needle into blood slick skin, the drug administered and the needle removed, Carolyn absently rubbing a thumb over the pin prick "let's get her on the stretcher people. One… two… and lift," she and two nurses lifted Vala onto the stretcher, the first nurse held the oxygen mask tightly over Vala's face, squeezing the pump to steady beat.
She did not spare a glance for the two men stood under the night sky. Jack's black shirt showing next to no sign of the blood that adorned it but Daniel's light one soaked, his hands held in front of him as if they belonged to someone else. The latter's knees buckled and the older man steadied him, guiding him back to his car and allowing him to fall into the passenger seat.
Daniel was peripherally aware of Jack easing him into a car, but he neither offered to help nor fought the process. He stared straight in front of him, as police milled around the crash site, taking notes and shooing away journalists who were already trying to take reports on the accident. The only movement he made was to blink owlishly at Jack as the man sighed heavily, leant across him and took the seatbelt, fastening it with a resounding click.
"You okay Danny?" Jack's voice was soft and firm and Daniel habitually nodded his head.
Knowing he was lying – hell, he wasn't exactly fine and dandy so how on earth Daniel thought he could be he did not know – Jack turned the ignition and reversed back onto the road. Driving far enough that the wail of the sirens could not be heard he pulled up at the side of the road again, four way indicators on, he turned in his seat, "Daniel," he tried, to his surprise he was answered.
"Jack," God, what have I done?
"Daniel," She's fine Danny, it's not your fault.
"Take me to the base Jack," he whispered, his hands lay in his lap, sticky and red, the gash on his palm deep, bloody and swelling.
Jack nodded, then he reached onto the back seat, casually dropping the rag into Daniel's slackened hands "don't bleed all over the car," he deadpanned. An odd sense of grateful relief washing over him as Daniel finally moved, clasping his hand into a fist with the rag in it's grasp to stem the flow.
Daniel was numb. He had to be numb. He dug his fingernails into the cloth, wincing as he felt the sharp sting the increased pressure caused his palm, he shivered and it was immediately counteracted by the blast of hot air from the radiator as Jack instantly flicked the switch to activate it.
The soft purr of the engine cut out and Jack pulled the keys from the ignition "come on," he said, unspoken words hung between them thick and heavy but none as thick as the fog that clouded every thought, every sense, and every feeling Daniel had.
Daniel unclipped the belt with his uninjured hand and slid from the truck, standing beside it as Jack locked it as if on autopilot, every little detail seemed important.
The corridor's of the SGC were quiet until the rattling of a gurney and heels on hard floor broke the gentle silence with startling intensity "pulse is slow, breathing's shallow," Carolyn reported, running alongside, her stethoscope patting against her chest as it hung from her neck.
"Dear God…" Cam paused, staring straight past Sam who whirled round, jaw dropping and paling considerably she hurried to catch up with then med team, Cam and Teal'c on her heels.
"Carolyn what happened?" she exclaimed, her eyes drawn to Vala's face.
"Not now Colonel," Carolyn said and that accompanied by the look on her face for them to realise that there genuinely wasn't time to explain it.
The gurney rolled into the infirmary and the IV bag hooked to the pole, rigged up to a heart monitor that instantly gave alarming readings. "Pulse is faint, BP's eighty-five over twenty and dropping," Carolyn reported "breathing's – she's flat lining!" she bolted over to the wall and hit the alarm. "Code blue in the infirmary!" she moved back to the bed, starting compressions manually "someone get me the panels!" the trolley was by her in seconds, she seized the panels,"charging… two-fifty and clear!"
"Daniel!" seeing the blood Sam took a step forward but stopped when she saw him staring right past her, through into the infirmary, she turned her head just in time to see Vala's body thrust up against the sudden electrical surge in her body then thud back onto the bed.
"Charging again… and clear!"
Cam said not a word and immediately went to help Jack support the once more collapsing Daniel into a seat against the wall, facing away from the scene unfolding in the infirmary.
"What happened?" Cam asked as Daniel leant his head back against the cool wall of the mountain corridor, swallowing against the nausea that was rising.
"She crashed his car. Police were on scene when we arrived," Jack said, hands jammed deep into his pockets.
Carolyn could feel a panic rising in her chest, the dulled sense she had learnt to mask whilst in medical school. The feeling of holding a person's life in your hands, of knowing you were their only chance, it didn't make you feel right and warm, as many seemed to think. It was cold, a heavy weight, you weren't a God, you weren't a miracle worker. You were a simple human being; it reminded you of how weak you were, how useless and ineffectual you were to this planet. Save one life and risk a thousand more, one man's born two more die, but sometimes, sometimes things changed, you made them better, oh how she hoped it was one of those times...
"Come on Vala," she rubbed the panels together again, resisting the urge to tap her foot as the defibrillator took a seeming millennia to charge again, "clear!" she cried, the electric current surged through the woman's body. A sigh of relief was barely permitted escape from her lips as the panels were replaced, "we've got her… get her prepped for surgery,"
Daniel slumped into the chair, tense muscles relaxing upon hearing Carolyn's voice "we've got her,"
It was so human, so simple, a car crash, an accident, mundane, incredibly … normal. No Goa'uld, no Prior's, no Ori, no alien technology, his car. It was just his car and she had… she had…
"Daniel!" Sam exclaimed crouching in front of him "Daniel calm down," she cupped his face in her hands, short shallow breaths puffed out between his lips as his eyes met hers with indifferent reverence.
"I'm fine Sam," he whispered, pushing her hands away, giving them a soft squeeze as he did so.
"Teal'c can you get some..." she broke off, smiling at the jaffa who already held a tray of peroxide, gauze and bandages beside her. "Thank you," she said, taking a seat next to Daniel's and moving his injured hand to her lap – was it that her hands were hot or was he just really cold?
Tipping the alcohol on to the gauze she pressed it firmly onto his palm, tightening her hold on his hand as he tried to pull away on reflex. After a moment his fingers curled over her hand and she let them rest there a moment; letting herself be his anchor for a second before removing the gauze and wiping the blood away with another piece, cleaning it just enough for a temporary strapping to be put in place.
She worked in silence, focussing on the task she had undertaken… around the back, between the thumb and forefinger, across the palm and round the wrist, around the side, across the back, between the thumb…
"Thanks," he whispered, taking his hand back as she finished, he took the glass of water Cam held out to him and sipped it slowly, the cool liquid and oasis on the desert that was his throat.
"We've got her,"
Darkness around them like a muffling blanket, imagining the car hurtling from the road… she would have screamed… the car swerved, hit the curb and rolled…
"We've got her,"
It was his fault. If he hadn't walked out, if he had just listened to her… they were in this together, it was his baby too… the baby! The baby couldn't have survived that, no definitely not.
Three times.
Three times her heart had stopped, three times it had, had to be artificially pumped, breath forced into lungs that refused to work. Each breath, each beat of her heart, every second that they had stopped was another fraction of time in which the baby would have been deprived on the very things it relied on it's mother to give. He should have been there.
"We've got her,"
If only he had listened, if he'd cared, if he'd not locked away his heart in a box of steel, chained it shut and thrown away the key. If, if, if… too many ifs, to many chances, to many roads and paths, a hundred doors and a hundred windows, each lead to different scenarios, to possibilities, thousands of universes, millions of realities, occurrences, and outcomes.
The chair smashed against the wall, the clatter of metal legs against concrete walls ceased all conversation, all words and thoughts being passed between the minds of those people staring at him with so much concern, so much pity. He didn't want pity, or sorrow, tears to be shed, or condolences. He was to blame, it was his fault.
His fingers raked through his hair and the cut to his palm protested quietly and he ignored it, tugging relentlessly at the short brown strands. He jerked his elbow out of Sam's reach when she went to touch it, startling her when her eyes met his. She looked upset, he should tell her sorry. Same as he should have told Vala the truth, he should have been there.
Should, would, can, if, maybe, possibly.
Uncertainties like a plague and its relentless clawing at his heart and his mind like a hungry tiger desperate for its first meal in months. Sick to the stomach yet beyond being nauseated, fatigued yet running on adrenaline.
He lashed out at the wall next to him in an abrupt fluctuation of movements, his fists flying from his hair and one into the wall, his knuckles crunching against the solidity of it but he made no noise of pain. A hand on his shoulder had him whipping round, his other fist ready to make contact, but it was caught in that same hand that had touched his shoulder. Jack's hand, he turned, their eyes met and no words were needed.
"I do not believe violence will help Daniel Jackson. Your wife will be fine,"
Jack glanced back from Teal'c a moment. Violent. Daniel the linguist, the one with words and with hope, the optimist, the heart and soul of the team he had lead proudly for seven long years, where was that Daniel?
Daniel swallowed, "you don't know that," he muttered, tearing away from Jack and stalking down the corridor, away from their pity and misplaced concern.
The men's rest room was not far and he slammed the door behind him, headed for the sinks and began ripping off the bandage Sam had only just put on, hands shaking with the effort it took not to collapse but completing their task to the best of their ability.
Twisting the tap furiously, he thrust his injured hand into the torrent it released, hissing and holding it in place at the wrist with his free hand, squeezing as hard as he could. Watching the swirls of red dance in the basin of water as it filled. Fury dissipating he turned off the tap and stood there, hands poised over the pink tinged water; he did not glance up into the mirror for he knew what he would see.
Moments passed and he plunged his hands into the water, scrubbing of the drying blood, scraping angrily at his fingernails but it would not seem to clean; he couldn't keep his hands still long enough to finish a normally easy task.
The wound had reopened under the water and he pressed his thumb down into it, the pain it caused made him gasp but the pressure relieved the sting. It pounded and throbbed to a beat far slower than his heart which was thumping against his ribcage like a drunken drummer.
Twisting, turning and rolling on its side down the embankment, the windows shattered and cracked, she screamed and released the wheel, shielding her head on pure instinct… "… She's flat lining!"
Grief is like a drug that heightens your senses and yet still makes you numb.
He did look up then, his face ashen and her blood and in his mixed with sweat that made his fringe damp to his forehead. The eyes that stared back at him were gaunt and grey. Another spontaneous spur of emotion that was too powerful to control and fist met glass like bullet from a gun, it shattered and cracked – like the windows of the car, beyond repair, beyond saving, just like she was to him – he stared in shock at his other bloodied hand. Now he could understand the need to hurt and damage.
Shards buried deep in his hand eerily reminiscent to those that dug into his gut every time he closed his eyes. Hissing in pain, as he began to regain some sense of control, he hurried over to the paper towel dispenser, using a handful to stem the flow of blood on both hands. Clasped together, palm to palm.
His knees buckled and he slid down the wall, legs straight out before him he rested his forehead against the back of his hand and allowed himself to cry.
Author's Notes: So Vala's the one in hospital but I'm feeling just a little sorry for Danny right about now...
Next Chapter: As Vala fights for her life Daniel sits vigil and makes his decision.