Thanks to zeilfanaat and bats212 for their beta and writing skills. This chapter is better because of their input. All errors, missteps, screw ups, typos, grammatical and spelling mistakes, and all other possible and impossible things wrong with this are mine and mine alone. And I own nothing.

This story is rated T. If you disagree or have concerns, please contact me immediately.

Previously in chapter 20 - He didn't feel the coldness of the liquid antiseptic cleansing his skin. He didn't feel the surgical drape as it was put into place or even flinch from the sting of the local injection. And when he did feel the pressure of being held to keep still, and the bite of the long thin needle as it was inserted into his spinal canal, Jack suddenly felt the rush from another IV injection, and while he was a little uncomfortable, he didn't care. That was until intense pain had him wishing for more drugs.

Chapter 21

"All right Sam, what have you heard?" Daniel was still upset about everything.

"Daniel, we're due for our presentation," she reminded him.

"I know, but haven't you heard the rumor?"

"What rumor, Jackson? C'mon, we have got to go," Mitchell insisted, after coming through the door. He saw Sam and Daniel start to get up from their chairs and reached over to grab the file folders.

The three members of SG-1 headed for sub level 19 with Daniel lagging a little behind. After the presentation about the Ori they would go to another lab on sub level 18 for a technology demonstration. As they neared the elevator, Vala and Teal'c were coming down a corridor from the other way.

"Muscles was just telling me that there was some kind of disturbance earlier," Vala quipped as they all boarded the elevator. A reluctant SF got on too and pushed a button for a different sub level.

"There, see – that's what I heard too," Daniel whined. He turned to the SF and asked, "What do you know about it? Security always knows everything."

"Daniel, leave him alone," Carter ordered without looking at either man. Nobody was looking at the SF or they would have seen the relief on his face. He'd been on the response team that accompanied the medical personnel to the stairwell and knew all about what had happened to General O'Neill.

"What did you hear, Teal'c?" Daniel just couldn't leave it alone.

The big Jaffa tilted his head and said simply, "I heard nothing, but I believe someone else did."

Daniel almost laughed out loud. "What did someone else hear?"

"That there was a disturbance. It may have been someone attempting to access the lower levels."

"Who told you that?"

"I believe it was Captain Proctor." Proctor was a member of SG-22 and had been upstairs at the anniversary celebration.

"Wait." Mitchell jumped in. "That happened before Sam and I came down. I thought you were talking about something happening here."

Teal'c's eyebrow rose up his forehead as he looked at Daniel. "Apparently not."

The elevator stopped and the SF disembarked. He was glad he wouldn't be around in case someone asked him another question. As the doors closed, Daniel went off on another tangent.

"Why did the SG team leaders go ahead of us?" Nobody responded to Daniel's rant. "They were supposed to go after us." The other team members were suddenly aware that Daniel was still harboring some anger – probably about O'Neill, but it was carrying over into everything else. "And then they delayed us another 15 minutes? I thought the almighty schedule was so important."

The elevator doors opened, and they immediately saw the secret service. If they hadn't been sure about where to go, they were now, just by the security presence alone. They stepped out and began making their way to the room down the hall, but were stopped midway for a security check. A few moments later they entered the meeting room where their audience was already waiting for them.

They filed in and acknowledged the President, SecDef, SecAF and Generals Mantley, Landry and Hammond, along with Major Davis. Carter and Mitchell were slated to start,so they remained standing while Teal'c, Daniel and Vala sat down across the table from the VIPs. With pleasantries over, the overhead projector was turned on and they got started.

*~*~*~*~*

"You're doing fine, General. We're just finishing up and then we'll do our best to get you comfortable," the doctor tried to reassure him after the lumbar puncture hadn't gone well. The Versed would diminish his memory of the procedure, so that hopefully the extremely vivid and painful moments would be mostly forgotten, or at least muted."

A procedure that would usually take about 30 minutes or 45 at the most, had taken well over an hour and had been difficult for both the patient and the medical professionals, though for obvious reasons more difficult for Jack. Due probably to scar tissue in his lower back, they had great difficulty with the needle, and after three attempts still hadn't gotten it positioned correctly. Dr Bishop had had to start the procedure over, and it had taken a long time to correctly insert the needle. With the needle at the right depth and angle, they had been ready to measure the pressure. When they had straightened his legs, Jack experienced excruciating pain.

Jack had been drifting, willing his mind to ignore what they were doing to his body. They had been holding him, but not tight enough when suddenly every nerve in his lower back, backside and legs had been on fire, and he had instinctively moved, causing even more pain. The last 40 minutes had been relaxation, alternating with piercing burning pain, which sometimes got turned up a few notches to agonizing. Finally the closing pressure reading had been taken. Jack gasped as the weight holding him down eased and finally released, and his legs were pulled back up toward his chest for the last time.

Then someone had cleaned and bandaged the puncture sites on his back, before gently repositioning his scrub pants, leaving the drawstring loose, and wrapping and retying the cloth gown around him. Jack had been relieved when the foam collar was put back around his neck, and the plastic suction tube gently removed from his mouth. He hadn't even realized he'd been drooling until sometime during the procedure someone had carefully positioned a suction tube in the corner of his mouth.

"Let's turn him to port," the Navy doctor instructed as a medic moved to the opposite side of the bed. Flipping the draw sheet up and over Jack's midsection, a nurse placed her hands under his hip and shoulder.

"Easy does it, Sir," she told him sympathetically.

The medic held the draw sheet, and Jack grunted softly as the man pulled the sheet bearing his weight toward him, while the nurse guided Jack gently onto his back. The head of the bed was elevated slightly. When Jack was positioned, the nurse put the draw sheet back into place and checked the nasal cannula before applying a blood pressure cuff, while the doctor checked the cardiac monitoring leads, the IVs, and the Foley. Though Jack was drugged, he was not unconscious, and the doctor didn't want to startle him into thinking he was being fondled.

"General O'Neill, I need to check and maybe adjust the catheter… with my hand," he explained. Jack didn't speak, but he did open his eyes to slits and was able to nod slightly. He hated urinary catheters, but thank goodness this one was not bothering him yet. They hadn't taped it to his thigh, and he was glad of that since they would either have had to shave him or rip out hair when the catheter was removed.

Carefully reaching into Jack's scrub pants, both through the fly and through the slit in the fabric they'd cut earlier, the doctor repositioned the Foley catheter and made sure there wasn't any tension. Jack had been insistent on wearing pants, and Bishop had understood completely. He removed his gloves, tossing them into a nearby hazardous waste bin, and then reached for the instrument draped around his neck before placing his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I need to listen to your heart, General. The stethoscope may be a little bit cold," he warned Jack.

He rubbed it in his palm for a few seconds before slipping it beneath the neck of the hospital gown. Listening intently, he watched the man, but observed no reaction other than him closing his eyes. He hadn't listened to Jack's heart and lungs when the man had been on his side, and now he couldn't bring himself to ask the injured man to sit up. Instead he slid the stethoscope around the sides of Jack's chest, almost reaching his back.

The nurse finished taking Jack's blood pressure and then checked the urine collection bag. When she had finished her official duties, she used a dampened cloth to gently wipe Jack's mouth and cheek where he still had some spittle. Jack appreciated the gesture, but couldn't find the strength to even open his eyes, let alone say anything to her.

"I need to check your temperature, General O'Neill," Bishop told him, and Jack opened his mouth a little so the plastic sheath could pop in under his tongue. As he closed his lips around it, he was reminded that they could have taken his temperature the other way. As soon as the temp unit beeped, Bishop removed it from Jack's mouth and looked at Lam.

"He's stable, Carolyn," he told his fellow physician who was standing nearby.

She looked over at the patient and pulled up a chair. Placing her hand on his, she saw his eyes open, the distress diminished yet still evident, and his slight trepidation palpable.

"We're finished for now," she told him. "I know it was difficult and… I'm truly sorry." She silently prayed the Versed would work. O'Neill had an extremely high pain threshold, so to have him suffering was distressful, and made it very difficult for her to remain objective.

Her apology was genuine, but Jack didn't reply, just blinked long and hard. His brain was foggy and he wasn't comfortable on his back. The rough procedure wasn't her fault, and truth be told, he'd been through much worse in his life. He also knew when to stay quiet and just let the docs apologize.

Opening his eyelids a little wider, he watched them patiently watching him. A few seconds later, after getting his thoughts together, Jack finally asked, "How 'm I?"

TBC

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