A new story - cause why would I try finishing two when I could have 3 in progress!
Not mine, never mine. Sigh
"Hello."
"Sam?"
"Daniel? Is that you? It's nice to hear from you. What's up?" Sam blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. She sat up, barely listening to the man on the other line. Glancing at the clock, she frowned when she saw it was 4:30 in the morning.
"What? What did you say?" she asked, realizing she'd missed the entire conversation. Why the hell was Daniel calling so early?
"Sam, are you listening?" he asked.
"Yes – sorry, I was asleep. What's going on? Is everything all right?"
"No – that's what I'm trying to tell you. It's Jack."
"What?" She sat up straighter, her heart suddenly pounding. "What's wrong?"
"Sam – he had a stroke. He's in the hospital but – they don't know if he's going to make it."
For a moment she couldn't speak or even think. Daniel called her name again, and that snapped her out of her momentary stupor. "Daniel – are you at the hospital?"
"Yes. He was brought in a few hours ago. He's in the ICU but they'll only let me in to see him for a few minutes at a time.'
"I'll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, you tell him he'd better not die or I'm going to follow him and kick his ass!"
There was a strained laugh from the other end, although Daniel sobered quickly. "Hurry Sam. Can you have someone get in touch with Teal'c," he asked. "He should be here – well, in case -"
"He needs to be here to help Jack get better, that's all Daniel. And yes, I'll have them send a message through the gate. Now, what hospital is he in?"
After Daniel gave her instructions, she signed off and then called her assistant. Walter had been promoted and then had moved to Washington to serve under General O'Neill. She still wasn't sure if she forgave the General for stealing him.
"Lieutenant Baxter – it's General Carter here. Sorry to wake you up, but I need you to make some arrangements for me. I have to fly to Washington immediately." She gave Baxter her instructions and once done her call spent the next few minutes throwing together an overnight bag.
Less than 30 minutes after Daniel's call, she was on her way to Petersen to catch a flight to D.C. She prayed that Jack would still be alive by the time she made it.
As she settled into her seat, and buckled up, she let her mind wander over the past few years. She'd often had doubts about everything that had happened, and her decisions – and now they were coming back to haunt her.
Losing Jack suddenly became a very real possibility – and the regret rushed to the surface. She chuckled without humor. She'd already lost him – not through death, but because she'd thrown him away. "Oh God Jack – what did I do?"
After he'd moved to D.C. to take over Homeworld from General Hammond, they'd both decided that their time had finally come. Slowly, tentatively they'd begun to talk about dating, about seeing where things could go between them.
They'd spent time together – whenever they could, although it was difficult being in different states and both of them had insane schedules. Still, they'd managed to make it work.
Over time they'd become closer – the awkwardness and discomfort of changing from colleagues, to lovers had dissipated. They were happy together, and very much in love.
She would never forget the moment he'd proposed. They were staying at his cabin, over Christmas. They spent the days cross country skiing or hiking through the snow. The evenings were spent cuddled up together in front of the fire – talking, laughing, watching movies and just generally enjoying one another's company.
It had been during one of those evenings that Jack had surprised her by getting down on one knee and asking her to be his wife. She'd laughed, cried and finally said yes. It had been one of the happiest moments of her life.
But then everything had started to go wrong. She was sent to Atlantis, and then was put in charge of the Hammond. Although they tried to stay in touch as much as possible, it became increasingly difficult to maintain a relationship over such long distances and even longer breaks.
When they did finally have times together, both of them were tired from their respective jobs – and their visits together became more stressful and less enjoyable. She knew that Jack resented that she was gone so much, although he tried to be supportive and never said anything, to her face, about his feelings. When she tried to discuss them with him he'd always change the subject, or simply say that "it was her career and she had to make her own decisions."
Part of her had appreciated that – and part of her resented that he didn't seem able to be honest with her. She knew if he'd said anything about her giving up her command, she would probably have gone ballistic – but him not saying anything irritated her. She knew it was neither rational nor fair – but was still the way she felt.
In the end they'd had a huge blowout fight – she could barely remember what it was even about. At the end of it she'd taken off his ring and thrown it in his face and walked out the door.
She'd thought he would come after her – but he didn't. For days, which stretched into weeks, she'd thought about going back to him, apologizing and asking that they start again. But his silence – his refusal to reach out – angered her even more. It was just like him, she thought. His refusal to deal with emotions would get in the way of a happy life together, she decided.
So she didn't call and didn't go back. That was the end of their relationship.
Over the succeeding years they'd established a formal, but respectful relationship. She had been made commander of the SGC, so he was her superior and she had to report to him regularly. Not once did they ever address their personal relationship, their broken engagement or their – or at least her broken heart.
Daniel and Teal'c had both tried to intervene and were told, by both parties involved, to "stay out of it." In the end they had agreed and nothing more had been said, although she knew they both felt very sad about how things had transpired. It had meant the end of their team as they no longer all got together. She would see Daniel and Teal'c - sometimes together – but she never saw Jack, unless at an official event or on his occasional visits to the SGC.
It had been fifteen years since their engagement ended and there hadn't been a day when she hadn't questioned her decision – or regretted it.
And now Jack may be dying and she might never get the chance to let him know she still loved him, that she'd never stopped.
She looked out of the window, to see the light just starting to peek over the horizon. She closed her eyes and prayed that he would be okay.
Daniel sat in the waiting room, his head held in his hands. He was exhausted – he'd been notified by Jack's assistant the evening before and had rushed to the hospital – only to be told that "General O'Neill is in critical condition." He'd finally been able to speak with the doctor, who told him that Jack had suffered a major stroke and his prognosis was uncertain at best. The doctor told him to prepare himself – that Jack might not survive the day.
He'd been able to see his friend a few times – almost feeling sick when he saw Jack. The right side of his face looked like some obscene wax effigy, which had melted – causing his cheek and mouth to appear distorted. His right eyelid was taped shut with surgical tape – he assumed to keep it closed as it had obviously been affected as well, and the lid was pulled down.
The doctor explained to him that Jack must have had the stroke much earlier and had probably not been found for many hours. That made his prognosis worse, he was told, since they weren't able to treat him quickly after the stroke.
Daniel had been worried about his friend for the past few years. Jack had once been fit and energetic – never sitting still and always engaged in some kind of physical activity. For his age he'd been one of the fittest men Daniel had known.
But that had changed. The stress of the job – the long hours sitting in meetings or at his desk – had caused Jack to become sedentary. He had put on a tremendous amount of weight, grew pasty and bloated looking – and had lost the energy he'd once had. He'd also lost the humor, the "little boy" quality that had both irritated and charmed Daniel, and so many of the others who knew him.
Jack had become humorless as well as unwell. Daniel had tried to bug him – had tried to get him out doing something physical – to look after himself, but all attempts had failed. He suspected that Jack had pretty much given up on anything other than his job.
Part of him blamed Sam for the state he was in, although he knew that really wasn't fair. Still, it was after they'd broken up that Jack had turned so completely to his job. He'd lost that joy he'd had – or had reclaimed after the loss of his son. Daniel suspected that losing Sam was finally one loss too many. He'd closed himself off – and it looked as if he may have ended up killing himself as a result.
"Daniel!" Sam hurried down the hospital corridor to where Daniel was sitting. He stood upon her approach and they fell into one another's arms. Neither of them spoke, instead they simply took comfort in being together.
"How is he?" she finally asked. "He's still -"
"Yes," Daniel said quickly, pulling back slightly. "He's still alive. Come on, let's sit. Have you had something to eat?"
She shook her head. "No – I need you to tell me everything. I'm not hungry."
"Well I am," he told her. "And I'm sure you could at least use a coffee. It'll be a while before we can go in so I'll tell the nurse we're going to the cafeteria. They have my cell if anything happens."
She didn't want to go – but she finally nodded. She had to at least keep hydrated. "Uh – is there a place to keep my bag?" she asked. Indicated the small suitcase she'd dropped when hugging Daniel.
"I'll ask the nurse if they can keep it behind the desk. Come on – let's go." After speaking to the nurse and leaving Sam's things, the two of them headed to the cafeteria, three floors above the ICU.
"What happened?" she asked, as she sat with her cup of coffee and toast. Daniel had grabbed breakfast – since he hadn't eaten since the day before.
"It was a major stroke," he told her. "It looks like it was many hours before he was found. He didn't show up at work, but his assistant was on vacation this week and the temp who was working didn't think to tell anyone. She just thought he was off in meetings or something. It wasn't until he missed a meeting with the Vice-President that anyone thought to look for him. They found him at home, on the floor of his bedroom."
"Oh God," she said, closing her eyes. "He was all alone!"
Daniel didn't say anything, not wanting to bring up memories or make Sam feel guilty – although that she did was obvious.
"It's not your fault," he said gently. "Jack – hasn't been looking after himself for a few years now. I've been worried."
"Has he been unwell?" she asked with a frown.
"Not exactly – he just looked bad. He'd put on a lot of weight and he just didn't seem healthy. And the stress of the job can't help."
"He should have retired years ago," she said, almost sounding bitter.
Again Daniel didn't say anything, although he felt a bit of anger grow at Sam. Jack didn't have anything but his work. He rather suspected he would have retired if he'd been married to Sam. Still, there was no point rehashing old territory.
"What does the doctor say about his chances?"
Daniel shook his head. "He basically said there's always hope – but that it doesn't look good." He stopped and took a deep breath. "You realize – if he does survive – he's going to be permanently affected by this?"
"Affected?"
"Sam – it was a bad one. If he survives – he may not be able to walk or talk – he could be blind. Hell, it could have affected his mind. At the least he's going to suffer paralysis on one side. I told you – it's bad."
"God," she breathed. "Not Jack. I can't – oh God, what are we going to do?"
"Pray," he said softly. "At this point there's nothing else we can do."
"No – there has to be something," she said. "What about a healing device? We have one in Nevada. We can get that."
"And who's going to use it? We haven't heard anything from the Tokr'a in years. For all we know they're gone, like the Asgard."
"I can try," she said, sounding almost defiant. "I still have Naquada in my blood!"
"Sam – you know you've never been successful at using it. You may do more harm than good."
"But I can try, Daniel We can't just let him die – or let him become a – a –"
"We have to put our faith in the doctors here. He's getting top notch treatment – the President told them to take extra special care of him. They've called in some of the best neurosurgeons in the country."
She shook her head. "We have to find him some help – some offworld help. Maybe the Nox?"
"We haven't heard from them either."
"What the hell is wrong with all these people who are supposed to be our allies," she cried. "Isn't there anyone who is willing to help us?"
Daniel just shrugged. He'd heard this very thing from Jack himself – but now it was even more maddening. They had a lot of fair-weathered friends. The one ally who had been worth anything had been the Asgard – and they'd gone and committed mass suicide. Suddenly he felt blazingly angry at them.
"Sarcophagus," Sam muttered. "Maybe we can find out."
"Sam – for one thing, we haven't been able to find or keep one in all these years. And really – what do you think Jack would say about putting him in one. He hates the things after what Ba'al did to him."
"But he'd be alive," Sam said, her voice breaking with despair. "And he'd be whole. Daniel – what if he dies? I can't live without him."
Daniel pushed his chair back and walked around to Sam. He knelt down and put his arm around her. "We'll just have to make sure he doesn't die!"
When Sam finally was given permission to go and sit with him for 10 minutes (with a little lie from Daniel, who was named as his health-care proxy), she almost ran out of the room when she saw him.
He looked terrible. Daniel had tried to warn her, but nothing could have prepared her to see the once strong, handsome man look so sick and weak. If she hadn't been told this was his room, she would have argued that the man in the bed was not Jack O'Neill.
His face almost appeared deformed, although she knew that was as a result of the stroke. But he also looked puffy – his skin distended. She could tell, even though the wires, tubes and blankets, that he was much heavier than the last time she'd seen him – which had been over a year.
He also looked old. She knew his age – he had turned 70 this year – and he looked every one of those years, if not more.
But all of that didn't matter – not now. What mattered is that he was sick, possibly dying – and she still loved him and didn't know what to do. She knew that if he were to die, that her life would be that much less. She would survive – but life would be bleak without Jack O'Neill in it.