Broken 3 & 4
by Sharim
[pic]
~3~
TO: Major General George Hammond, USAF
FROM: Dr. Major Janet Fraiser, USAF
RE: MEDICAL REPORT - MAJOR SAMANTHA CARTER
8/10/05
Patient is making a full physical recovery. As predicted, no STDs were present. Malnutrition has been cured, due to Intravenous Lines as patient has no appetite.
Physically, Major Carter should be ready to return to light duties within a month, though mentally it is not believed she will be ready. The patient still refuses to co-operate, interact or communicate with any person. She also refuses to be in the presence of any males. With myself (Dr. Major Janet Fraiser) she continues to remain silent, though slight physical contact is permitted. She also indicates her wants and dislikes physically.
Major Carter seems to like routine. Any disruption to a normal routine worries and confuses her. Given her current condition and the severe amount of trauma she has been exposed to, it would be unwise to force her into any unusual and complicated situations.
Dr. Major Janet Fraiser
* * *
"Morning Sam." Janet smiled, breezing into the room and placing the tray carefully on the small bedside table.
A small smile was offered in return.
"Great breakfast this morning. We have toast, an orange... and coffee." Janet pulled back a lid, revealing it to Sam.
Sam gazed at it almost listlessly, before staring up at the ceiling again.
"Sam..." Janet sighed, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. God she was tired, so tired that the word 'tired' didn't even begin to describe it. Even exhausted didn't come close.
"Not hungry," Sam whispered, not looking at Janet.
A flutter of excitement rushed through Janet.
"You didn't eat anything last night either, did you?" Janet said gently, pretending to ignore the fact that after nearly a month, Sam had finally spoken.
"Not hungry," Sam repeated more firmly, her eyes fixed determinedly on the ceiling.
"I know. But if you don't eat we're going to have to put you back on a drip..." Janet said gently, busying herself with the flower arrangements.
"Not hungry." It was definitely sounding mulish and even argumentative now. Janet nearly grinned from ear to ear, but held it firmly in check.
"Sam..." Janet paused, licking her lips before she turned around to look at the woman lying on the bed. "You have to eat something."
Sam turned her gaze onto the doctor, the now familiar blankness in the blue eyes was becoming oddly reassuring to Janet, and she knew that was a bad sign.
Janet walked over to the tray and picked up the toast, scrutinising it thoughtfully.
"You know what, you're right," she said, dropping it carelessly onto the plate. "It's not appetising. It's cold, hard and dry," she listed.
Sam turned to her, worried by this strange change in their routine.
"So I'll get you something nice. I'll get you some cookies like Daniel used- "
"NO!" Sam screamed, jerking away from Janet and curling up into a ball, facing the wall. "NO! No no no no..." She continued, clawing at her ears, blocking them so that Janet's unfinished sentence wouldn't penetrate her mind.
"Sam... I'm sorry..." Janet whispered, fear stabbing at her. Too much. She hadn't thought about what she'd been saying, just said the first thing that came to mind. Too much too soon, she realised too late. "I'm sorry." She sat on the bed, placing a caring hand on Sam's shoulder.
The blond was out of the bed and stumbling across the floor before Janet had even realised the sudden scream sounding around the room had emerged from Sam's mouth.
"Don't touch me!" Sam screamed, covering herself with the sheet that she'd dragged with her from the bed. "DON'T!"
"Okay. Okay!" Janet held up her hands, stepping backwards.
The bed was between them now, its bedding strewn about the floor. Janet watched as Sam rocked herself furiously under the sheet, a steady, unchanging rhythm that she recognised as the same rhythm she had used that first day when Sam had returned.
"What's going on in here?" Hammond's voice broke the bubble that had descended over them, and instantly Sam stiffened beneath her sheet. "Dr. Fraiser?"
"Sh!" Janet hissed, watching as Sam stopped moving. "Sam?"
There was silence.
"Sam, honey... get back in bed please."
The bundle shuffled, but towards the corner between the table and the wall.
"Sam, the bed isn't that way," Janet spoke gently.
"Is everything okay?" Hammond whispered, confusion in his eyes.
"No sir, it isn't." Janet sighed as the sheet was pulled even tighter over the trembling form and Sam squashed herself into the tiny gap between the furniture and the wall.
* * *
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Janet sank into her chair.
Hammond nodded, looking up slowly from his paper. "What happened?"
Janet didn't have to be a genius to know that he was referring to the 'incident' in the infirmary. "She spoke to me."
Hammond raised a non-existent eyebrow. "And?" he asked carefully.
"I... I said the wrong thing, Sir," Janet admitted, anger and defeat washing over her. Along with guilt. Guilt that she hadn't thought about what she was saying. "I'm... I'm afraid that we're back where we started with her."
Hammond pursed his lips.
"And the Colonel?"
"Still the same. No change at all." Janet didn't want to hear it.
"McKenzie wants..."
"No." Janet shook her head, cutting the General off before he could finish. "No. I don't want him *near* them."
"Janet..." George sighed.
"And General Carter made it quite clear that he doesn't want him near Sam either. Besides, he's male," she added almost as an after thought.
Hammond nodded slowly. "Janet," he said gently.
She looked up at him, forcing the tears to stay away.
"It's not working this way."
"I know," she admitted. And the walls came down and tears ran down her cheeks. "I've been trying... for a month already and we're still exactly where we were. I know you've got to be patient... I know that... But..."
"It's okay." Hammond opened a drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. "Maybe we just need a different strategy."
Janet sniffed, dabbing at her eyes roughly. "I don't *have* any other strategies." She pointed out, her voice as brittle as her emotions.
"I've been talking to McKenzie..." Hammond looked slightly guilty as the admission crossed his lips, but he plowed on. "He seems to think that they were brought out of one environment and placed into another one too quickly."
Janet frowned. "So what, we just let them get dirty and hungry again?"
"No." Hammond shook his head. "We just give them some familiars."
"Like a security blanket?" Janet asked slowly, a grudging admiration for McKenzie growing in her mind. She'd overlooked that thought, she knew, and it was because of her emotional involvement with the patients.
"Yes." Hammond nodded. "What's the one thing they both had?"
Janet frowned. Then her eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
"I am." Hammond nodded again. "McKenzie's convinced me," he admitted again.
"I... I don't think it's a good idea. You *know* how Sam is..."
"I know," Hammond agreed. "But what other alternative do we have? It's not like we have any ground to lose already." He pointed out.
Janet silently conceded his point. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay. We let them meet on neutral territory."
~4~
He wished he had a window.
But he wasn't going to ask for one. The minute he started getting comfortable... the minute he allowed the good thoughts and feelings in... Wham. They'd be taken again. An experience he knew all too well.
So he stared at the wall.
It wasn't as interesting as a window might have been, but it was interesting enough. It was blank, and he could quite happily stare at the wall all day and let his mind go just as blank as the wall. Hell, he *did* stare at the wall all day and let his mind go blank.
And he waited.
He never used to be good at waiting, at passing the time so happily. But now... now he was *happy* for time to crawl by. He was happy it went so slowly. The only thing he wished was that it went slower. That way, when the sloppy matter hit the fan again it would seem as if it was further away. Dumb reasoning, he knew, but wasn't that always the case anyway? At least, that's what *she'd* told him once...
He glared at the wall. Damn the blank, uninteresting surface. Sometimes his mind *didn't* go blank. And then he thought. He thought about *everything*, including *her* and he didn't want to think about *her* or any of the others.
The others.
Damn.
He really should ask for a window.
He heard the door to his room opening.
"Afternoon Colonel." Oh. It was her. Janet. The doctor. The one that used to like jamming him full of needles. STOP! Don't think about what used to be. It's gone.
He stared at the wall with an effort, begging his mind to go blank.
But it wouldn't go blank.
He remembered this. He remembered how his mind had stopped going blank after a while, and the woman with blond hair and blue eyes, and the small boy had been reintroduced to his life. He remembered how the more he fought; the harder it was to keep his mind blank.
And then he'd stopped wanting his mind to go blank. So it had stopped going blank.
And now it was happening again. Only, this time there wasn't anything to cause him to want his mind to stop going blank, and his mind still refused to go blank.
It was getting too confusing. It did last time as well: when his mind stopped being blank the thoughts became confusing. Just like now.
The wall seemed further away.
It *was* further away.
His mouth opened and he almost yelled out, almost begged for her to stop pulling him away from the wall. He didn't want to go for a ride. He didn't want to leave his wall.
But acknowledging that would mean acknowledging that his mind wasn't blank anymore, and that would allow the feelings in again.
So he kept silent, and stared into space as she wheeled him out of his room, out of his refuge.
* * *
TO: Major General George Hammond, USAF
FROM: Dr. Colonel Warren McKenzie, USAF
RE: PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION
- COLONEL JONATHON 'JACK' O'NEILL
8/10/05
Patient refuses to respond to any stimulation. This is considered 'normal' for him, given his previous reaction to a similar situation upon return from Iraqi prisons (appendix A), and therefore we are confident that given the right trigger, Colonel O'Neill will recover from this.
Dr. Colonel Warren McKenzie
* * *
They're tried to take her sheet away from her.
She hadn't let them.
Her sheet had remained firmly over her body, her pale, stick-like fingers holding it in place like a vice. And they'd relented, unable to get her to relinquish her cover or come out of her corner.
"Sam."
She recognised that voice, and felt her satisfaction slip. Janet. Janet could always get in past her defences. Why? Why could Janet do that?
"Sam, come on." A hand brushed her shoulder. Instinctively Sam jerked back, her sheet covered head impacting against the wall with a resounding crack. She refused to move.
"Sam, either you get out now or I'm going to get someone in here to help me."
Someone to help Janet. That meant being touched.
Sam shuddered.
No. She didn't want to be touched; she didn't want other people near her. Only Janet. Janet was the only person she'd allow.
Feeling like a school child, Sam crept out of her hiding place.
"And the sheet." She could picture Janet standing with her hand held out, waiting for the sheet to be handed to her. No. Sam wasn't going to give up the sheet. Not this time.
Defiantly she clutched the sheet closer.
"Okay, fine," Janet snapped, losing patience. "That's fine, you keep the dumb sheet. Come on." She felt Janet's hand touch her elbow, trying to get her to stand up on her feet. Sam didn't want to. She didn't want to stand up, so she jerked away, scuttling backwards like a hermit crab.
"Sam, not now," Janet snapped.
Janet was annoyed. Sam couldn't remember Janet being annoyed at her. She hesitated.
"Just stand up, please. You can sit down if you'll just stand up and come here."
Warily, still scared at this new change in their routine, Sam rose to her feet.
She didn't like change. She liked things the way they were, knowing when to expect food, when to expect visits from Janet, when to expect flower deliveries. She even knew when to expect the other nurses that came in when Janet went home.
Home.
Sam missed home, she realised dimly. She missed having her own, clean, tidy house with a soft bed and colourful quilt.
"Good girl. Come on." Janet's hand once again connected with her elbow, but this time Sam didn't jerk away. Shakily she stepped forwards, allowing Janet to guide her.
She looked down, out through the folds as the sheet hung around her, covering her. She imagined that she looked like a ghost, a ghost that no one could see.
She liked that idea. No one could see her because she was an invisible ghost.
A smile rested on her lips. Invisible.
"Okay... sit down."
She sat down.
"Now... We're going to go for a little ride, okay?" Janet conversed gently, sounding almost unsure of herself.
Sam didn't want to go for a ride. She didn't want people looking at her. She didn't want the *men* to see her. Not ever. She opened her mouth, ready to protest and flee. But then she remembered. A ghost. A ghost no one could see.
Quickly she pulled her feet up and curled up on the wheelchair, her sheet pulled tightly around her and making her invisible.
* * *
She was unsure about this. There were too many doubts nagging at her. She felt about as confident that McKenzie's plan would work as she did that Daniel and Teal'c were still out there.
In all honesty, she had been expecting more of a protest from Sam. She hadn't been expecting anything from Jack, and he hadn't done anything. But she'd been expecting protest and argument, physical striking out even, from Sam.
She hadn't gotten any though.
Sam had sat down on the wheel chair, as quiet as a lamb with her white sheet firmly pulled over her.
Janet felt like a mother again. Cassie was grown up now, nearly an adult in her own right. She didn't need coddling and babying anymore. But Sam... Sam was like an infant. And Janet was her mother, and like a mother, Janet was worried if this was the best thing to do. But she didn't have a choice in the matter.
"Nearly there, Sam," Janet soothed; placing a gentle hand on what she assumed was Sam's head. The body beneath her hand stiffened, but not a sound or other movement was made. Concern washed over her.
This was new. It was different behaviour. Sam was always definite with physical actions, making her likes and dislikes painfully obvious, while still refusing to speak. Now... now she was deadly quiet and going along with what Janet was doing. It was unusual, and Janet was worried.
The Colonel was sitting in the room, exactly like she'd left him: His legs covered with a blanket and his hands folded limply in his lap. He reminded her of an old man alone in hospital, just gazing out of the window.
Except he didn't have a window.
Did he ever get bored just looking at the wall?
She eyed his hands carefully, but sighed in disappointment. They hadn't moved. He hadn't fidgeted, or even shifted.
What had happened to the man who couldn't sit still for more than two seconds?
She knew Hammond and McKenzie were watching them... and looked up nervously at the surveillance camera. The black lens eye stared unblinkingly down on her.
"Colonel... I've brought you a visitor," she announced carefully.
If Sam had been motionless before, she was frozen now. The Colonel in his wheelchair didn't move; his eyes didn't flicker; he didn't even blink.
"Sam..." Janet whispered, leaning down so that her mouth was close to the sheet. "Sam... get up, honey."
Sam refused. She didn't move.
"Come on. We're at our stop."
The sheet moved, but it was only pulled even tighter against the rigid body.
Janet sighed.
It was ridiculous. Sam was a grown woman, nearly in her forty's, and she was *hiding* under a sheet, refusing to move like a *four* year old.
"Grow up Sam," Janet muttered under her breath and stood up.
She was tired. She was stressed, concerned, scared, worried, lost... she wanted her friends to get better.
"You know, this is why they don't recommend you treating your friends." She spoke matter-of-factly, pushing the wheelchair directly into the Colonel's line of vision - if he looked at anything that was. "You get impatient because you *know* that what they are like is far from what they were like. Major Carter, remove that sheet from your head this instant. And that's an order." She snapped, yanking at the sheet.
Sam yanked back.
Janet yanked again, harder and longer.
A squeal of some sort sounded from under the sheet, and Janet pulled again. Harder.
"NO!" Sam's voice cut across them clearly. "NO! I want to be invisible!"
Janet stopped, shocked for a second, and then pulled again. "You aren't invisible. You are hiding under a *sheet*, Sam. Now let go."
"Dr. Fraiser, what do you think you're doing?" McKenzie's voice barged throughout the room. "The effect this could have on the patient..."
Sam heard the masculine tones and panicked. She snatched at the sheet, jerking away from Janet. Her momentum carried her forwards, and the wheelchair flew backwards. With a grunt she slapped against the floor.
O'Neill didn't blink.
Janet snatched the sheet away. "Treating my patients," she retorted.
And then the guilt set in. What had she just done? You were supposed to be patient with them, she scolded herself, her mouth open as she gazed down at Sam.
The sheet, in all the confusion, had moved so that her tousled blond head was sticking up, the blue eyes gazing up angrily from the floor.
"Sam, are you... shit... I didn't mean..."
"Dr. Fraiser!"
"Not now!" She nearly screamed, crouching over Sam.
Then she froze, her hands stilling on the pale face. A noise. From behind her. Slowly she turned, half dreading what she might find.
O'Neill had moved. His hands were now gripping the wheelchair tightly, so tightly that his pale knuckles gleamed white and the wasted sinews in his bony arms were strung taut.
"Carter," he gasped.
The whisper washed over the room, seeming to bounce and echo off the walls, crowding around until Janet felt deafened beneath the onslaught.
Sam jerked upright, her sheet forgotten as she staggered against the wheelchair, blue eyes focused on the unmoving figure opposite her.
"Don't..." Sam snarled, her lips curled back. Janet moved to help the woman, surprised as the frail arms lashed out roughly, full of strength and muscle. "Don't say it." Sam hissed, ignoring Janet.
And then Janet realised that it wasn't fear in Sam's eyes. It was anger.
"I..."
"NO!" The word cut across the room, and Janet flinched across the tone. "Don't. This is your fault. All of it."
O'Neill sank into his chair, his frame seeming to crumple beneath Sam's stare. "I know," he whispered hoarsely.
"I don't know why-" Sam cut herself off abruptly. "You're pathetic," she taunted, straightening and stepping towards him. "You let this happen. Look at you. You're not even doing anything to help. You *didn't* do anything to help."
"I tried," he defended, trying to raise himself up out of the chair. He failed miserably, his broken and shattered limbs lacking the strength to support is large frame. "God, you know I tried!"
"What about now?"
There was a deafening silence in the room, and O'Neill lowered his eyes. Then he raised them, fire flashing in their brown depths. "What about you? I'm not the one hiding under a sheet."
Sam stiffened, her cheeks pale and her lips pulled into a straight line. "I don't want to see you again. Ever." She whispered.
Janet didn't move as Sam staggered out of the room. She didn't move as O'Neill seemed to shrivel back into his chair.
"Dr. Fraiser..."
"What?" She turned to the SF appearing in the doorway.
"Major Carter just collapsed in the hallway..."
She forgot her confusion and anger, and ran to her friend.
* * *
"How is she now?" Hammond asked gently, fiddling anxiously with his mug.
"Sedated. It was just too much for her."
A muffled sigh ran around the room.
"We got a message from the Tok'ra. Jacob will probably be back on earth by tomorrow." Hammond broke the silence. "He might have some information..."
Janet sighed. "Sir... this isn't unusual," she said gently. "They've been POW for over a year, in worse conditions than you'll probably find anywhere on this planet, judging by their conditions."
"I know," Hammond nodded. "I was talking about Teal'c and Dr. Jackson."
"Oh." Janet fell silent again.
"Perhaps we should talk to them..."
"No." Janet interrupted McKenzie, turning to the General. "This morning, when I mentioned Daniel's name in reference to something that happened a long time ago... it caused the whole situation you walked in on," she admitted.
"I have been talking to the Colonel, and he refuses to discuss Major Carter," McKenzie added.
"He refuses to discuss anything," Janet pointed out dryly.
Hammond rubbed at his face. "So what now?"
"I don't know. We wait, Sir. And keep trying." Janet leant back in her chair. "There... there isn't really much else that we can do until they decide that they want to recover."
McKenzie nodded in agreement. "Until they're willing to talk, I doubt we'll be able to help them."
* * *
by Sharim
[pic]
~3~
TO: Major General George Hammond, USAF
FROM: Dr. Major Janet Fraiser, USAF
RE: MEDICAL REPORT - MAJOR SAMANTHA CARTER
8/10/05
Patient is making a full physical recovery. As predicted, no STDs were present. Malnutrition has been cured, due to Intravenous Lines as patient has no appetite.
Physically, Major Carter should be ready to return to light duties within a month, though mentally it is not believed she will be ready. The patient still refuses to co-operate, interact or communicate with any person. She also refuses to be in the presence of any males. With myself (Dr. Major Janet Fraiser) she continues to remain silent, though slight physical contact is permitted. She also indicates her wants and dislikes physically.
Major Carter seems to like routine. Any disruption to a normal routine worries and confuses her. Given her current condition and the severe amount of trauma she has been exposed to, it would be unwise to force her into any unusual and complicated situations.
Dr. Major Janet Fraiser
* * *
"Morning Sam." Janet smiled, breezing into the room and placing the tray carefully on the small bedside table.
A small smile was offered in return.
"Great breakfast this morning. We have toast, an orange... and coffee." Janet pulled back a lid, revealing it to Sam.
Sam gazed at it almost listlessly, before staring up at the ceiling again.
"Sam..." Janet sighed, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. God she was tired, so tired that the word 'tired' didn't even begin to describe it. Even exhausted didn't come close.
"Not hungry," Sam whispered, not looking at Janet.
A flutter of excitement rushed through Janet.
"You didn't eat anything last night either, did you?" Janet said gently, pretending to ignore the fact that after nearly a month, Sam had finally spoken.
"Not hungry," Sam repeated more firmly, her eyes fixed determinedly on the ceiling.
"I know. But if you don't eat we're going to have to put you back on a drip..." Janet said gently, busying herself with the flower arrangements.
"Not hungry." It was definitely sounding mulish and even argumentative now. Janet nearly grinned from ear to ear, but held it firmly in check.
"Sam..." Janet paused, licking her lips before she turned around to look at the woman lying on the bed. "You have to eat something."
Sam turned her gaze onto the doctor, the now familiar blankness in the blue eyes was becoming oddly reassuring to Janet, and she knew that was a bad sign.
Janet walked over to the tray and picked up the toast, scrutinising it thoughtfully.
"You know what, you're right," she said, dropping it carelessly onto the plate. "It's not appetising. It's cold, hard and dry," she listed.
Sam turned to her, worried by this strange change in their routine.
"So I'll get you something nice. I'll get you some cookies like Daniel used- "
"NO!" Sam screamed, jerking away from Janet and curling up into a ball, facing the wall. "NO! No no no no..." She continued, clawing at her ears, blocking them so that Janet's unfinished sentence wouldn't penetrate her mind.
"Sam... I'm sorry..." Janet whispered, fear stabbing at her. Too much. She hadn't thought about what she'd been saying, just said the first thing that came to mind. Too much too soon, she realised too late. "I'm sorry." She sat on the bed, placing a caring hand on Sam's shoulder.
The blond was out of the bed and stumbling across the floor before Janet had even realised the sudden scream sounding around the room had emerged from Sam's mouth.
"Don't touch me!" Sam screamed, covering herself with the sheet that she'd dragged with her from the bed. "DON'T!"
"Okay. Okay!" Janet held up her hands, stepping backwards.
The bed was between them now, its bedding strewn about the floor. Janet watched as Sam rocked herself furiously under the sheet, a steady, unchanging rhythm that she recognised as the same rhythm she had used that first day when Sam had returned.
"What's going on in here?" Hammond's voice broke the bubble that had descended over them, and instantly Sam stiffened beneath her sheet. "Dr. Fraiser?"
"Sh!" Janet hissed, watching as Sam stopped moving. "Sam?"
There was silence.
"Sam, honey... get back in bed please."
The bundle shuffled, but towards the corner between the table and the wall.
"Sam, the bed isn't that way," Janet spoke gently.
"Is everything okay?" Hammond whispered, confusion in his eyes.
"No sir, it isn't." Janet sighed as the sheet was pulled even tighter over the trembling form and Sam squashed herself into the tiny gap between the furniture and the wall.
* * *
"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Janet sank into her chair.
Hammond nodded, looking up slowly from his paper. "What happened?"
Janet didn't have to be a genius to know that he was referring to the 'incident' in the infirmary. "She spoke to me."
Hammond raised a non-existent eyebrow. "And?" he asked carefully.
"I... I said the wrong thing, Sir," Janet admitted, anger and defeat washing over her. Along with guilt. Guilt that she hadn't thought about what she was saying. "I'm... I'm afraid that we're back where we started with her."
Hammond pursed his lips.
"And the Colonel?"
"Still the same. No change at all." Janet didn't want to hear it.
"McKenzie wants..."
"No." Janet shook her head, cutting the General off before he could finish. "No. I don't want him *near* them."
"Janet..." George sighed.
"And General Carter made it quite clear that he doesn't want him near Sam either. Besides, he's male," she added almost as an after thought.
Hammond nodded slowly. "Janet," he said gently.
She looked up at him, forcing the tears to stay away.
"It's not working this way."
"I know," she admitted. And the walls came down and tears ran down her cheeks. "I've been trying... for a month already and we're still exactly where we were. I know you've got to be patient... I know that... But..."
"It's okay." Hammond opened a drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. "Maybe we just need a different strategy."
Janet sniffed, dabbing at her eyes roughly. "I don't *have* any other strategies." She pointed out, her voice as brittle as her emotions.
"I've been talking to McKenzie..." Hammond looked slightly guilty as the admission crossed his lips, but he plowed on. "He seems to think that they were brought out of one environment and placed into another one too quickly."
Janet frowned. "So what, we just let them get dirty and hungry again?"
"No." Hammond shook his head. "We just give them some familiars."
"Like a security blanket?" Janet asked slowly, a grudging admiration for McKenzie growing in her mind. She'd overlooked that thought, she knew, and it was because of her emotional involvement with the patients.
"Yes." Hammond nodded. "What's the one thing they both had?"
Janet frowned. Then her eyes widened. "You can't be serious."
"I am." Hammond nodded again. "McKenzie's convinced me," he admitted again.
"I... I don't think it's a good idea. You *know* how Sam is..."
"I know," Hammond agreed. "But what other alternative do we have? It's not like we have any ground to lose already." He pointed out.
Janet silently conceded his point. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay. We let them meet on neutral territory."
~4~
He wished he had a window.
But he wasn't going to ask for one. The minute he started getting comfortable... the minute he allowed the good thoughts and feelings in... Wham. They'd be taken again. An experience he knew all too well.
So he stared at the wall.
It wasn't as interesting as a window might have been, but it was interesting enough. It was blank, and he could quite happily stare at the wall all day and let his mind go just as blank as the wall. Hell, he *did* stare at the wall all day and let his mind go blank.
And he waited.
He never used to be good at waiting, at passing the time so happily. But now... now he was *happy* for time to crawl by. He was happy it went so slowly. The only thing he wished was that it went slower. That way, when the sloppy matter hit the fan again it would seem as if it was further away. Dumb reasoning, he knew, but wasn't that always the case anyway? At least, that's what *she'd* told him once...
He glared at the wall. Damn the blank, uninteresting surface. Sometimes his mind *didn't* go blank. And then he thought. He thought about *everything*, including *her* and he didn't want to think about *her* or any of the others.
The others.
Damn.
He really should ask for a window.
He heard the door to his room opening.
"Afternoon Colonel." Oh. It was her. Janet. The doctor. The one that used to like jamming him full of needles. STOP! Don't think about what used to be. It's gone.
He stared at the wall with an effort, begging his mind to go blank.
But it wouldn't go blank.
He remembered this. He remembered how his mind had stopped going blank after a while, and the woman with blond hair and blue eyes, and the small boy had been reintroduced to his life. He remembered how the more he fought; the harder it was to keep his mind blank.
And then he'd stopped wanting his mind to go blank. So it had stopped going blank.
And now it was happening again. Only, this time there wasn't anything to cause him to want his mind to stop going blank, and his mind still refused to go blank.
It was getting too confusing. It did last time as well: when his mind stopped being blank the thoughts became confusing. Just like now.
The wall seemed further away.
It *was* further away.
His mouth opened and he almost yelled out, almost begged for her to stop pulling him away from the wall. He didn't want to go for a ride. He didn't want to leave his wall.
But acknowledging that would mean acknowledging that his mind wasn't blank anymore, and that would allow the feelings in again.
So he kept silent, and stared into space as she wheeled him out of his room, out of his refuge.
* * *
TO: Major General George Hammond, USAF
FROM: Dr. Colonel Warren McKenzie, USAF
RE: PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION
- COLONEL JONATHON 'JACK' O'NEILL
8/10/05
Patient refuses to respond to any stimulation. This is considered 'normal' for him, given his previous reaction to a similar situation upon return from Iraqi prisons (appendix A), and therefore we are confident that given the right trigger, Colonel O'Neill will recover from this.
Dr. Colonel Warren McKenzie
* * *
They're tried to take her sheet away from her.
She hadn't let them.
Her sheet had remained firmly over her body, her pale, stick-like fingers holding it in place like a vice. And they'd relented, unable to get her to relinquish her cover or come out of her corner.
"Sam."
She recognised that voice, and felt her satisfaction slip. Janet. Janet could always get in past her defences. Why? Why could Janet do that?
"Sam, come on." A hand brushed her shoulder. Instinctively Sam jerked back, her sheet covered head impacting against the wall with a resounding crack. She refused to move.
"Sam, either you get out now or I'm going to get someone in here to help me."
Someone to help Janet. That meant being touched.
Sam shuddered.
No. She didn't want to be touched; she didn't want other people near her. Only Janet. Janet was the only person she'd allow.
Feeling like a school child, Sam crept out of her hiding place.
"And the sheet." She could picture Janet standing with her hand held out, waiting for the sheet to be handed to her. No. Sam wasn't going to give up the sheet. Not this time.
Defiantly she clutched the sheet closer.
"Okay, fine," Janet snapped, losing patience. "That's fine, you keep the dumb sheet. Come on." She felt Janet's hand touch her elbow, trying to get her to stand up on her feet. Sam didn't want to. She didn't want to stand up, so she jerked away, scuttling backwards like a hermit crab.
"Sam, not now," Janet snapped.
Janet was annoyed. Sam couldn't remember Janet being annoyed at her. She hesitated.
"Just stand up, please. You can sit down if you'll just stand up and come here."
Warily, still scared at this new change in their routine, Sam rose to her feet.
She didn't like change. She liked things the way they were, knowing when to expect food, when to expect visits from Janet, when to expect flower deliveries. She even knew when to expect the other nurses that came in when Janet went home.
Home.
Sam missed home, she realised dimly. She missed having her own, clean, tidy house with a soft bed and colourful quilt.
"Good girl. Come on." Janet's hand once again connected with her elbow, but this time Sam didn't jerk away. Shakily she stepped forwards, allowing Janet to guide her.
She looked down, out through the folds as the sheet hung around her, covering her. She imagined that she looked like a ghost, a ghost that no one could see.
She liked that idea. No one could see her because she was an invisible ghost.
A smile rested on her lips. Invisible.
"Okay... sit down."
She sat down.
"Now... We're going to go for a little ride, okay?" Janet conversed gently, sounding almost unsure of herself.
Sam didn't want to go for a ride. She didn't want people looking at her. She didn't want the *men* to see her. Not ever. She opened her mouth, ready to protest and flee. But then she remembered. A ghost. A ghost no one could see.
Quickly she pulled her feet up and curled up on the wheelchair, her sheet pulled tightly around her and making her invisible.
* * *
She was unsure about this. There were too many doubts nagging at her. She felt about as confident that McKenzie's plan would work as she did that Daniel and Teal'c were still out there.
In all honesty, she had been expecting more of a protest from Sam. She hadn't been expecting anything from Jack, and he hadn't done anything. But she'd been expecting protest and argument, physical striking out even, from Sam.
She hadn't gotten any though.
Sam had sat down on the wheel chair, as quiet as a lamb with her white sheet firmly pulled over her.
Janet felt like a mother again. Cassie was grown up now, nearly an adult in her own right. She didn't need coddling and babying anymore. But Sam... Sam was like an infant. And Janet was her mother, and like a mother, Janet was worried if this was the best thing to do. But she didn't have a choice in the matter.
"Nearly there, Sam," Janet soothed; placing a gentle hand on what she assumed was Sam's head. The body beneath her hand stiffened, but not a sound or other movement was made. Concern washed over her.
This was new. It was different behaviour. Sam was always definite with physical actions, making her likes and dislikes painfully obvious, while still refusing to speak. Now... now she was deadly quiet and going along with what Janet was doing. It was unusual, and Janet was worried.
The Colonel was sitting in the room, exactly like she'd left him: His legs covered with a blanket and his hands folded limply in his lap. He reminded her of an old man alone in hospital, just gazing out of the window.
Except he didn't have a window.
Did he ever get bored just looking at the wall?
She eyed his hands carefully, but sighed in disappointment. They hadn't moved. He hadn't fidgeted, or even shifted.
What had happened to the man who couldn't sit still for more than two seconds?
She knew Hammond and McKenzie were watching them... and looked up nervously at the surveillance camera. The black lens eye stared unblinkingly down on her.
"Colonel... I've brought you a visitor," she announced carefully.
If Sam had been motionless before, she was frozen now. The Colonel in his wheelchair didn't move; his eyes didn't flicker; he didn't even blink.
"Sam..." Janet whispered, leaning down so that her mouth was close to the sheet. "Sam... get up, honey."
Sam refused. She didn't move.
"Come on. We're at our stop."
The sheet moved, but it was only pulled even tighter against the rigid body.
Janet sighed.
It was ridiculous. Sam was a grown woman, nearly in her forty's, and she was *hiding* under a sheet, refusing to move like a *four* year old.
"Grow up Sam," Janet muttered under her breath and stood up.
She was tired. She was stressed, concerned, scared, worried, lost... she wanted her friends to get better.
"You know, this is why they don't recommend you treating your friends." She spoke matter-of-factly, pushing the wheelchair directly into the Colonel's line of vision - if he looked at anything that was. "You get impatient because you *know* that what they are like is far from what they were like. Major Carter, remove that sheet from your head this instant. And that's an order." She snapped, yanking at the sheet.
Sam yanked back.
Janet yanked again, harder and longer.
A squeal of some sort sounded from under the sheet, and Janet pulled again. Harder.
"NO!" Sam's voice cut across them clearly. "NO! I want to be invisible!"
Janet stopped, shocked for a second, and then pulled again. "You aren't invisible. You are hiding under a *sheet*, Sam. Now let go."
"Dr. Fraiser, what do you think you're doing?" McKenzie's voice barged throughout the room. "The effect this could have on the patient..."
Sam heard the masculine tones and panicked. She snatched at the sheet, jerking away from Janet. Her momentum carried her forwards, and the wheelchair flew backwards. With a grunt she slapped against the floor.
O'Neill didn't blink.
Janet snatched the sheet away. "Treating my patients," she retorted.
And then the guilt set in. What had she just done? You were supposed to be patient with them, she scolded herself, her mouth open as she gazed down at Sam.
The sheet, in all the confusion, had moved so that her tousled blond head was sticking up, the blue eyes gazing up angrily from the floor.
"Sam, are you... shit... I didn't mean..."
"Dr. Fraiser!"
"Not now!" She nearly screamed, crouching over Sam.
Then she froze, her hands stilling on the pale face. A noise. From behind her. Slowly she turned, half dreading what she might find.
O'Neill had moved. His hands were now gripping the wheelchair tightly, so tightly that his pale knuckles gleamed white and the wasted sinews in his bony arms were strung taut.
"Carter," he gasped.
The whisper washed over the room, seeming to bounce and echo off the walls, crowding around until Janet felt deafened beneath the onslaught.
Sam jerked upright, her sheet forgotten as she staggered against the wheelchair, blue eyes focused on the unmoving figure opposite her.
"Don't..." Sam snarled, her lips curled back. Janet moved to help the woman, surprised as the frail arms lashed out roughly, full of strength and muscle. "Don't say it." Sam hissed, ignoring Janet.
And then Janet realised that it wasn't fear in Sam's eyes. It was anger.
"I..."
"NO!" The word cut across the room, and Janet flinched across the tone. "Don't. This is your fault. All of it."
O'Neill sank into his chair, his frame seeming to crumple beneath Sam's stare. "I know," he whispered hoarsely.
"I don't know why-" Sam cut herself off abruptly. "You're pathetic," she taunted, straightening and stepping towards him. "You let this happen. Look at you. You're not even doing anything to help. You *didn't* do anything to help."
"I tried," he defended, trying to raise himself up out of the chair. He failed miserably, his broken and shattered limbs lacking the strength to support is large frame. "God, you know I tried!"
"What about now?"
There was a deafening silence in the room, and O'Neill lowered his eyes. Then he raised them, fire flashing in their brown depths. "What about you? I'm not the one hiding under a sheet."
Sam stiffened, her cheeks pale and her lips pulled into a straight line. "I don't want to see you again. Ever." She whispered.
Janet didn't move as Sam staggered out of the room. She didn't move as O'Neill seemed to shrivel back into his chair.
"Dr. Fraiser..."
"What?" She turned to the SF appearing in the doorway.
"Major Carter just collapsed in the hallway..."
She forgot her confusion and anger, and ran to her friend.
* * *
"How is she now?" Hammond asked gently, fiddling anxiously with his mug.
"Sedated. It was just too much for her."
A muffled sigh ran around the room.
"We got a message from the Tok'ra. Jacob will probably be back on earth by tomorrow." Hammond broke the silence. "He might have some information..."
Janet sighed. "Sir... this isn't unusual," she said gently. "They've been POW for over a year, in worse conditions than you'll probably find anywhere on this planet, judging by their conditions."
"I know," Hammond nodded. "I was talking about Teal'c and Dr. Jackson."
"Oh." Janet fell silent again.
"Perhaps we should talk to them..."
"No." Janet interrupted McKenzie, turning to the General. "This morning, when I mentioned Daniel's name in reference to something that happened a long time ago... it caused the whole situation you walked in on," she admitted.
"I have been talking to the Colonel, and he refuses to discuss Major Carter," McKenzie added.
"He refuses to discuss anything," Janet pointed out dryly.
Hammond rubbed at his face. "So what now?"
"I don't know. We wait, Sir. And keep trying." Janet leant back in her chair. "There... there isn't really much else that we can do until they decide that they want to recover."
McKenzie nodded in agreement. "Until they're willing to talk, I doubt we'll be able to help them."
* * *