At the moment, Harry Maybourne a.k.a. "G. Gordon" was busy bleeding all over the interior of his rented car as he attempted to drive himself back to Colorado Springs from the secret government installation at Groom Lake known as Area 51. For five days he'd been trailing behind the NID agents skulking around Area 51 in the hopes of finding out just what exactly they were after. His chance came when he'd watched them break through the base's security heading for one of the storage buildings. He'd caught up just in time to interrupt them coming out of one of the storage rooms that housed artifacts brought back by the SG teams. In the struggle he'd managed to wrestle part of the pilfered material away from the NID agents, but he'd managed to get himself shot in the process. By this time base security had become aware of the breach, but like his NID rivals, Harry had managed to elude them.
He had made it about ten miles down the highway before he'd been forced to pull off the road to staunch the flow of blood and get his first look at what the NID had been after. It had only taken him a few minutes to realize that while he'd managed to snatch an important piece of the puzzle from them, the NID would eventually be able to activate the stolen alien technology without it. It would just be a matter of time before they found the correct frequency through trial and error. Another fifty miles down the road Harry pulled off the highway into a secluded rest stop. Inside the restroom, Harry managed to get himself cleaned up enough to appear in public without calling unwanted attention to himself. He used pieces of his torn and blood soaked shirt to form a pad. 'Thank God for duct tape,' Harry thought to himself as he secured his makeshift bandage to his side with strips torn from a roll he'd pilfered from the supply closet.
An hour later, he pulled off the interstate when he saw the neon lights of a small town cutting through the dark. He drove through the town until he found one of the large all-night superstores that were springing up across the country. Grabbing a basket he quickly found everything he would need to treat himself and keep himself going until he reached Colorado Springs. He paid for his purchases in cash and waited impatiently for the cashier to bag them. Harry threw the bag onto the passenger seat knowing he could make it a little while longer on his improvised bandage before pulling over again, but he did open the bottles of extra strength pain reliever and caffeine pills. He took several of each and washed them down with the soda he'd bought. He took a moment to consult the map before maneuvering his rented car onto the ramp that would take him back onto the interstate and sped away afraid to stay in one place longer than absolutely necessary.
Sometime the next morning, Harry carefully maneuvered his vehicle into the driveway of a non-descript home in the suburbs of Colorado Springs popular with military families. He used the car's mirrors to check that no one was around to see him before he levered himself from the car. The wound in his side screamed in protest at his movement, and he could feel the blood begin to seep from the wound again. In his hand, Harry held the documents he'd grabbed from the NID thieves. He hoped this wasn't a mistake, but he knew he couldn't go any farther without medical attention. He just prayed Major Doctor Frasier didn't turn him in. He had no wish to return to his cell at Fort Leavenworth, but even though Harry's scruples weren't as straight-laced as O'Neill's, he did have them. He firmly believed there was a special level of Hell reserved for those who harmed children, and it looked as though the NID and Senator Kinsey were about to consign themselves there. He knocked on the door loudly. When it opened he stared in surprise at the face of the teenager in front of him. "Where's your mother?" he demanded in a voice hoarse with fatigue and pain.
"Washington," Cassie replied instantly. "Testifying at Sam and Jack's trial. You're G. Gordon aren't you?" she asked in return.
Harry nodded wearily as he slumped against the door frame.
"You'd better come in then," Cassie decided sweeping a look around the neighborhood. "Sam and Jack have been looking for you," she told him. She stepped back out of the way expecting Harry to enter the house, but when he straightened away from the door frame his vision went gray and he heard a ringing in his ears. Cassie's exclamation of surprise was the last thing he heard as the floor came up to meet his face.
Harry came around to the sound of scissors on fabric and the feel of cold metal against his bare skin. He sat up with a gasp only to be pushed back down by the scissor-wielding teenager kneeling next to him. It was then that he realized he was lying on the couch in the living room instead of the floor in the entry. "How'd you get me here?" Harry asked.
"It wasn't easy," Cassie assured him as she pushed his hands away and continued cutting away his shirt.
"Damn it! Stop!" he cursed. "I don't have any other shirts."
"I'll get you one of Daniel's," Cassie told him. "I need to get a look at that wound."
"It's fine," Harry argued.
"Look," Cassie said gesturing with the scissors in her hand. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig and have been for some time if the amount of blood in the front seat of that car is any indication. You have two options as far as I can see. Me or the emergency room."
Harry considered the relative merits of both options before finally agreeing, "You."
Cassie allowed herself a small smile of triumph before she went back to cutting away his shirt. "I've got to take this tape off," Cassie warned just before she began pulling gently but steadily. "Swear if you want," she offered as she noticed his grimace of pain. Harry didn't need to consider that suggestion. He cursed a blue streak in the air as Cassie pulled the tape slowly from his side. He wanted to tell her to just rip it away, but he understood as well as she that if she did so the bleeding would start again. He'd lost too much blood already. When the last of the tape was away Cassie picked up the wash cloth and alcohol she'd previously set within reach. Harry's curses took on a new volume as she cleansed his wound. "I need to stitch this closed," Cassie informed him. "Don't worry. Mom taught me to do sutures while I was confined to the infirmary a few months ago. I've been practicing."
"Practicing on what?" Harry muttered through teeth gritted in pain.
"Pig's feet," Cassie answered with a smirk knowing he wouldn't appreciate the information.
"Great," Harry muttered. "Just do it," he ordered as she hesitated holding up the already threaded needle.
"Here," Cassie said handing him the bottle of vodka she'd removed from the cabinet in the kitchen where her mother stored the alcohol. "This will help. I'm afraid this is the best I can do for anesthetic," she told him with a shrug as she rubbed liberal amounts of teething gel along the edges of his wound. "It's left over from when I got my wisdom teeth out," Cassie told him. Harry nodded though Cassie could tell he didn't really care where it came from. She waited a minute or so for the gel to numb him then handed him a wooden spoon from the kitchen. "Bite down on this," she said. "We don't want the neighbors calling the cops because they hear screaming."
Harry managed to stay conscious through the first three stitches before giving into the pain and blood loss for a second time. He came to as Cassie was applying a final piece of surgical tape to the fresh white gauze pad she'd placed over his wound. "Thank you," Harry told the young woman.
Cassie nodded. "I'm going to get cleaned up and find you that shirt," she told him. A few minutes later when she returned to the living room the blood was gone from her hands, and she was carrying several pieces of clothing in her hands. "Here," she said holding out a black t-shirt. She helped him slip it over his head then held out a denim shirt. "Wear this over it. The added bulk should help disguise the bandage," she ordered him.
"Good idea," he agreed as he allowed her to help him into the borrowed shirt.
"You need to call Sam and Jack," Cassie ordered him as she went to get the cordless phone from its cradle on the desk.
"No," Harry protested attempting to get off the couch. "Not from here. They'll be watching for that."
Cassie stopped then looked down at the phone in her hand. "I've got a cell?" she asked.
Harry shook his head as he gritted his teeth against the new pain caused by his movements. "I need to go there," Harry said.
"How do you propose we get to D.C.?" Cassie asked sarcastically. "Fly? You'd never get past security."
"Yes, I know. I'm going to have to charter a flight," Harry said, "but there is no 'we' involved."
"Wanna bet?" she argued. "You aren't going to make it on your own. You've lost too much blood. You're going to need someone to help you."
"Your mother will kill me," Harry protested.
Cassie kept the smirk from her face only with a great deal of effort knowing she'd already won by the way he'd voiced his protest. "Give me the keys to your car," she ordered. "I'll get your bag. There's blood on those jeans too."