Day Four: Janet___

(This part written by Layton Colt)

"Janet, please! I'm fine! Absolutely fine. I've been here all night, can't I go now?"

As the large blue eyes stare pleadingly at me, I have to fight the urge to roll my own. I'm a mother. I have a heart of steel when it comes to ignoring the pleading looks--at least, when the health of the one looking at me is at stake. And the large purpling bruise on his forehead only further strengthens my resolve.

"Daniel, you have a concussion," I say patiently. "I want to keep you here for a few more hours, at least."

"Well can I at least--"

"No," I cut him off. "You cannot have any work brought here."

He glares at me. "That's not what I was going to ask," he tells me, using the kind of self-important tone that I hear every from Cassie every time she tells me she doesn't need a curfew.

I smile pleasantly, and hold his chart to my chest. "Okay," I say with false cheer. "What were you going to ask?"

He pulls his eyes away from mine. He doesn't answer. He was going to ask to have his work brought to him and we both know it.

"Hey, kids!"

I turn as the Colonel comes strolling into my infirmary and narrow my eyes. "Colonel," I snap by way of a greeting.

He gives me an assessing look, before moving his gaze to Daniel. I notice he softens considerably as he reaches him. "How are you doing?" he asks.

"He's restless, sir," I say. "It's so horrible to have him hurt in such an *avoidable* accident."

The Colonel almost has the good grace to look ashamed. Almost.

"I brought you some cookies," he says, turning to Daniel. "Carter was going to make some of those chocolate walnut ones--but I thought that I should because this is--kind of--my fault . . ."

Kind of? I think, just as Daniel vocalizes it.

"KIND OF?" he repeats dangerously.

"Well," the Colonel says. "It WAS your idea, Daniel."

"That's it!" Daniel shouts, ripping the IV out of his hand. "I want a rematch, O'Neill. Right here, right now!"

I move swiftly between them, glaring at the mess Daniel has made of his hand. "Colonel, could you please take your cookies and leave? I'm already treating him for a concussion, I don't want to have to treat him for food poisoning as well."

I look at Daniel's expression as he glares at the Colonel. Or for a heart attack.

I give the Colonel a look, and he starts to back up towards the doors. Then I turn to Daniel. "What were you thinking?" I ask, quickly moving the IV to his other hand.

"Tigger is going down," he tells me gravely. "Oh yes. He is."

Tigger? This concussion might be more serious than I thought. I reach for my penlight.  He tries to swat my hand away, but I grab his chin and quickly check his pupils.

Satisfied he was getting better, and not worse, I returned my penlight to my coat pocket. And then patted it reverently.

"Dr. Frasier?"

I turned to look at Nurse Carey. "Yes?"

"Colonel O'Neill is waiting in your office, ma'am. He says he needs to speak with you."

I sighed. "Tell him I'll be there in a minute."

Carey nodded and headed off to deliver the message. I turned to face Daniel. Daniel was an angel compared to certain other patients--but if you leave him alone too long he tends to wander off.

From what I hear, Colonel O'Neill has had this problem too.

"Don't move from this bed, Daniel," I warn him.

He gives me a sweet little smile, and I swear he batted his eyelashes. "Would I do that, Janet?"

"Yes."

He gives me an insulted look.

I point my finger at him. "Don't move," I said again.

He nods. I don't trust him for a second--but I can't very well just keep my superior waiting.

When I enter the office, I see Colonel O'Neill, savior of Earth, liaison to the Asgaard, trying to balance a quarter on his nose.

"Sir?"

His head snaps up and the quarter goes toppling to the floor.

"Dr. Frasier," he says.

"I move around the desk to sit in my chair. "What was it you needed, Colonel?"

"Daniel--he's okay, isn't he?"

I smiled. "He'll be fine, sir." My smile falters a little. "He's had worse."

The Colonel nods and flashes me a rueful grin. "Not by me, though."

"Colonel, if I'm remembering correctly, Teal'c has knocked you out when the two of you were sparring. I wish you--the both of you--had been more careful, but it was an accident."

"Of course it was," he snaps.

"Colonel, why don't you just go visit him again--without agitating him this time if it is at all possible--and apologize."

He makes a face at the last part. I remind myself rolling my eyes at a superior is insubordination.

"Alright," he says finally. Then he stood and left the office. I follow him out.

When we return to the infirmary, Teal'c and Sam are standing beside Daniel's bed.

Daniel's EMPTY bed.


"Colonel--" I begin.

"I'm on it," he says, before promptly jogging out of the door.

Sam frowns. "Are you alright, Janet?" she asks me.

"Fine. I'm fine. You two should probably go help the Colonel."

Sam bites her lip to hold back a smile and nods, beside her, Teal'c inclines his head.

I walk them to the door, and watch them start down the hall. Then I snagged the first airman I saw.

"I want you to put four monitors in my office, and hook them up to the cameras in SG-1's quarters."

"Yes, Ma'am," The young man nods.

I lean back against the wall and sigh. SG-1 was every Doctor's nightmare--but god help me, I don't know what I would do without them.

Only moments later the Colonel was heading towards me, a sullen Daniel in tow.

"Janet--I don't see why--"

I held up a hand. I was tempted to keep him here the rest of the day, just to get back at him, but the truth was, he probably was fine--and I was probably being overprotective.

"You can go, Daniel," I tell him. "But I want you to go to your quarters and rest."

He nods eagerly. "Of course, Janet."

He didn't fool me for a second. I waved him off anyway. The only way I was going to get him to rest was to tie him to the bed. And I knew from experience that didn't always work either.

"Come on, buddy," I hear the Colonel say cheerfully. "Let's get you to your quarters so you can rest."

Daniel pushes away his supporting hand and glares at him. "My fault?" he growls.

Jack winces. "Well, it was mostly my fault," he says. "And a little Ferretti's. But certainly not at all your fault."

Daniel's eyes narrow as he tries to gauge his sincerity.

"Come on, Daniel. We're stuck here together. You can't stay mad at me for long. You might as well give in."

Daniel sighs, and Jack smiles smugly before ushering him down the hall.

I trudged on back in the infirmary and began my rounds. Lt. Baker had a broken arm--and Meyers from SG-6 was in with a staff wound to the leg. And then there was SG-11 . . .

It was hours later when I finally made it back to my office and collapsed into my chair. I was surprised to see all the monitors already in place, neatly labeled O'Neill, Jackson, Carter and Teal'c. I reached over and flipped on Daniel's monitor first. I knew he wouldn't be resting, but part of me still held a small portion of hope.

My eyes widen as I take in the images on the screen. Daniel and Sam's legs and arms were all twisted together, and Teal'c was leaning precariously over both of them. The Colonel was balancing carefully beside Daniel, his weight resting on a hand that had been placed between Teal'c's legs.

I rested my head in my hands, and resisted the urge to bang it against the desk.

I send Daniel off with orders to rest--and he plays Twister.

My attention was turned back to the screen as my speakers erupted with laughter. The team had all collapsed in a heap atop the mat. I smiled. I suppose I could let them off the hook this one time.

After all, they do say laughter is the best medicine.