Part 6 - Need

Having the same idea on their minds, Jack and Sam both headed to the showers after going to their quarters to get some clean and dry clothes. Thinking she would be safe to grab a quick shower, considering half the base was supposedly off world, Sam quickly made her way down to the locker room. She was sure she was going to get sick. Even though she hadn't been in her wet clothes that long, it had been long enough. She remembered the times when her mother always used to remind her that staying in wet clothes would only get her a cold, nothing else.

Smiling at the memory, Sam hurried on her way. Going no further than being sure it was men's locker room, Jack headed in that direction after collecting some dry BDUs from his quarters. It didn't bother him that he was wet. He felt as though he could've sat in that rain all day, only that it brought back too many painful memories. Nothing a long, hot shower couldn't fix. Nothing would fix the memories - make the pain go away - but little things helped.

At the locker room, the inevitable occurred. Colonel and Major met. Both confused, they frowned. "Colonel."

"Carter," they spoke simultaneously.

Realization took a moment to hit Sam, but when it did, she realised that she was the one who shouldn't be there. It was men's locker room. She was only hoping that she would be fortunate enough to find it empty. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't fortunate enough.

Does this mean something? Sam thought suddenly. Things keep happening around us. Things that seem to be subtly bringing us together. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.probably am. I guess I just can't deny what I want.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Sam said. "I thought, seeing as there are very few people left on the base, I might be able to get away with a quick shower. I do realize that it's men's locker room, but I just thought.well, it's ok. I'll just go. Sorry, Sir."

As quick as all the words had fallen from her mouth, Sam turned and left. Jack had wanted to say something, even though he didn't know what, but was left with no chance to. He didn't know what to do anymore. Everything around him just seemed so hard. It was all too difficult. Why had everything become so hard? Why had little things turned to giant issues? Why was everything happening this way? What could he do to fix these problems?

@

The next day, Jack began to feel the acute symptoms of either a cold or the flu - he couldn't decide which. It was clear that being out in the freezing temperatures of the previous day and getting so wet, had in fact been a mistake. Of course, he hadn't thought otherwise, but at the time he couldn't have cared less about a cold or the flu. It had been the last thing on his mind. Not wanting to go to see Dr. Fraiser - knowing she would only tell him the obvious and give him pills - Jack avoided seeing anyone for the day. His quarters soon became boring, however, and he ventured away from the silence of them in the hopes of finding some distraction from his haunting memories. Hoping to conceal his sickness was near to impossible, and as Jack left his quarters, he noticed the stares other people gave.

His skin was an insipid shade of white, his nose felt as though it were twice its normal size and red as a tomato, he was constantly sneezing, coughing and sniffing, he felt as cold as ice and couldn't stop shaking. It wasn't a pretty picture.

"Oh no," Jack released a muffled and nasally sigh as he saw Daniel and Carter walking in his direction. He knew they'd see him and notice how sick he looked. Of course, Jack could just barely admit to himself that he was unwell, but he knew everyone else would take one look at him and instantly want to drag him off to the Infirmary. It was the least of his worries, but the Infirmary was the last place he wanted to be. He didn't even know where he wanted to be, but he sure as hell knew where he didn't want to be and the Infirmary was top of the list.

"Colonel," Sam said instantly as she saw her CO trying to shield his face away from her and Daniel.

Jack looked up and tried to smile for his second in command, however unsuccessfully.

"God, Jack," Daniel didn't try to hide his reaction to his friend's appearance, "you look terrible. What the hell happened to you?"

Sam silently cringed and bit her lip. She hadn't told Daniel anything about the previous day, and now wished she had. Although it was likely the situation at hand would be no different if Daniel did know the reason Jack looked so sick, perhaps he would've thought twice about asking so coarsely. "I took a walk in the rain, Daniel," Jack replied equally as roughly. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Could I have a minute alone with Colonel O'Neill please, Daniel?" Sam intervened gently before an argument broke out between the two.

"Yeah," Jackson said, eyeing his friends, but leaving without further ado.

"What is it, Carter? If you're just going to tell me to go to the Infirmary - forget it."

"Can we talk somewhere else, Sir?" Sam asked calmly. She didn't want to push a point, but she did want her CO to go to the Infirmary. It was a small thing; so she knew it would be a big ask for him. He hated the Infirmary - she was well aware of that.

"Yah," Jack answered, and nodded to the direction he'd come from - back to his quarters.

"What is it, Carter?" Jack asked again, once inside his quarters with the door closed. Sam sighed quietly. Stubborn man, she thought. Doesn't like people to be concerned about him.

"You really don't look well, Colonel," she launched straight into her campaign. "It could be the flu, and if you don't do something about it soon, it'll only get worse."

"So you did only come here to lecture me," Jack said incredulously, shaking his head. "I don't need anybody's lectures, Carter, especially not about how it'll only get worse if I don't do something about it. I've been sick before; I know how it works. I'll be fine."

"I don't agree, Sir," Carter continued. "You're extremely pale, and you look very - "

"Carter! I don't want to hear it!"

Sam left her mouth open and stared at her Colonel. She had probably been pushing her point a bit too far, but she admittedly hadn't expected that reaction. "I-I'm sorry, Colonel. I'm just.I'm concerned for you. That's all. I'm sorry; I'll go."

As Sam turned to go, Jack cursed himself silently. He knew she was worried about him. He knew that. He wished he would think, sometimes, before he spoke. "Carter," he said quickly, making her stop and turn back to him. "Sorry. I know you're.I know. You don't have to go."

Sam half-smiled. "Ok," she murmured. "I just don't want you to hurt anymore, Colonel. Somehow, I just want to make sure you're ok."

"I appreciate that. Really. But I'm fine."

Sam opened her mouth to counter her CO's last words, but quickly thought better of it. She didn't want to start an argument that was unnecessary. "Ok, Sir."

"But."

"Sir?"

"You didn't sound like you were finished. Go on, say what you wanted to say."

"I don't want to start an argument, Colonel. I think it's better if I keep my opinion to myself."

"You still think I should go and see Doc Fraiser, right?"

Sam nodded. She hadn't said it, so she shouldn't lie to avoid her CO knowing. Besides, she had made it fairly clear that she wished he would see Janet. "Yes, Sir, I do."

Jack nodded too, but didn't say anything. He still had no intentions of seeing Dr. Fraiser, no matter who suggested it. And even though he respected the fact that Carter wanted him to go - that she was concerned for him - he was still staying strong. He was not seeing a doctor. There was just no way.

"Bye, Colonel," Sam mumbled and left, closing the door behind her. She knew he wouldn't see Janet and found it hard to understand how he refused to see the simple fact that he was indeed sick. If not, at the beginnings of becoming very sick and, without treatment of some kind, could end up extremely sick.

Sam wasn't only worried that Colonel O'Neill was being stubborn; she was also worried that if his stubbornness made him too blind, he may end up with something very serious, like pneumonia. As much as the thought seemed prematurely dramatic, Sam was more worried that perhaps it wasn't so dramatic. That worried her more than anything else.

@

"Janet," Sam hollered as she entered the doctor's office.

"No need to yell, Sam, I'm here," Janet responded to the Major's call.

"Sorry, I didn't realise," Carter apologised quickly.

"It's all right. What's wrong?" Fraiser asked, noticing her friend's sense of anxiety. "Can you do something for me, Janet?"

"That depends on what it is; but I can't see why not."

"Can you go and visit Colonel O'Neill?"

Puzzled, Janet raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because he's sick, and he refuses to do anything about it," Sam answered.

"Then I'm afraid there's not a lot I can do. It's up to Colonel O'Neill to do something about it if he's not well. Just as a matter of interest, though, what's wrong with him?"

"I think he might contract pneumonia."

"From yesterday?"

"Yes. I mean, I feel kinda sick and I got dry pretty quickly. He was up there a lot longer than I was, and I don't think he got very dry."

Janet mused about the situation. There really was nothing she could do if Colonel O'Neill didn't want anyone's help. If he refused to see that he was unwell, she couldn't force medical treatment on him. But, then again, if he was at risk of contracting pneumonia, perhaps she could neglect that rule and insist he spend a day or so in the Infirmary under observation. It wasn't really a complicated decision, but Janet didn't want to ruin all Kayla's hard work by forcing O'Neill back into hiding away from people. "Janet?" Sam broke the silence.

"Ok," Fraiser said. "I'll go see him a bit later today."

"Thank you, Janet."

@

Knocking on the door to Colonel O'Neill's quarters nearly four hours later, Janet tapped her foot on the ground while she waited for a reply. After two minutes of waiting, she knocked again. "Colonel O'Neill, it's Dr. Fraiser. Are you in there?" she said to the closed door.

A passing airman told her he'd been in there all day and no one had seen him leave yet. This made Janet worry. Perhaps he was very sick. She knocked again, quicker and louder. "Colonel? Colonel, are you in there?" No reply. Janet turned the door handle and found it was unlocked. "Colonel?" she said as she opened the door and found the lights.

To Janet's surprise, Colonel O'Neill was in fact in his room, in bed, asleep. Fraiser gasped quietly and felt embarrassed as O'Neill woke up and saw her standing in his doorway. "Doc?" he murmured as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

"Yes, I'm so sorry Colonel, I didn't think you were in here," Janet apologised. Jack rubbed his face some more and squinted to allow his eyes to adjust to the sudden light. Grasping his T-shirt from the floor, he put it on and stood up, only to nearly fall.

"Colonel," Janet said as she jumped quickly to his aid.

"I'm all right," Jack said, raising his hand to stop her. "Just waking up properly," he added as he sat back down on his bed.

"Colonel, you don't look well at all," Fraiser stated as she saw his face in the light and noticed just how pale he was.

"I'm fine," Jack said. "Just waking up."

"No, I don't think so. You're as white as a ghost, and you obviously haven't got your balance. I'd like you to come down to the Infirmary with me and stay for a day or so for observation."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Doc, just a little cold or something. I've been sick before, I'll be fine."

"Colonel, I'm ordering you to come with me to the Infirmary."

"And I'm staying here."

"Colonel, please," Fraiser begged, but knew it wasn't going to help.

"Doc, get out," Jack said finally and let himself fall back on his bed. Janet sighed and slowly left. She wanted to push the issue, but at the same time didn't want to make Colonel O'Neill do anything to make his condition worse. He was clearly unsteady on his feet, so his reflexes and balance were probably off because of whatever he was sick with. If Sam was right, and it could turn into pneumonia, then something needed to be done now, before he got really disorientated.

But what could they do? If he refused to go near the Infirmary, short of sedating him and dragging him there, there was very little Janet could do. Really, she couldn't do anything. It was up to him whether or not he recognized how sick he was, or could get, and did something about it. It was up to Colonel O'Neill now. No one else.

@

On the surface, a half hour later, Jack walked into the rain. It was another miserable day. It had been like that for almost a week now. The weather was vastly getting worse and Jack was pleased. The worse the weather got, the better he liked it and the more he would sit in it.

It was your fault, Jack. She blamed you. She shouldn't have had to suffer. If you'd just done something, none of it would have happened. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you. It was your fault. All your fault. Your fault Jack, your fault!

Jack ignored the nauseas feeling in his head and began to sprint down the slope of the mountain, until he could go no further. The rain pelted onto his body and tried to slow him down, but he wouldn't let it. The wind blew the trees so they whipped at him as he ran past them. Then he turned, and started back to the top again. The wind and rain had been so strong over the week that branches from trees were scattered over the ground like the garnish of a meal.

The branches reached out from the ground to try and grab Jack's ankles as he ran by, but only just caught long enough to trip him. Bits of the tree branches scratched against his face and arms as he pushed himself back to his feet and continued running.

The ground was muddy and slippery, and each time Jack fell, the tree branches scratched another line on his face or ripped another hole in his soaking wet clothing. But each time he fell, Jack ignored the sting of the cuts and scratches and pushed himself back onto his feet once again. His hands were almost completely brown from dirt, with the exception of blood from cuts.

She was young, Jack. Think of Charlie. He was younger. But she suffered. For days and days she died before your eyes. Didn't do anything. Just sat and watched. Wondered when it was your turn again. What about her?! You killed her! It's your fault she died! Remember what you did to her! Sat and watched.did nothing.waiting, watching.did nothing.she died.could have saved her.did nothing.your fault.your fault.

The words echoed again and again, the same things repeating over and over. Without even realising it was happening, Jack's foot once again got caught under a bowed branch and as he continued to sprint, almost in slow motion, his ankle twisted violently under the branch and he slammed to the ground. Mud splashed up around him and he yelled out in pain as he realised he'd either fractured or sprained his ankle.

As he tried to move, he felt the buckled tree branch and looked to see it was almost completely circled around his ankle. He couldn't move it. It was broken. Reaching down to the branch, Jack yanked at it and grit his teeth as he finally got it off his ankle. Prying off his soaking wet jacket, he wrapped it tightly around the injured ankle and then - using the trees - he pulled himself up from the muddy, wet ground. Balancing on one foot for a moment, he then began to hobble back to the elevator to take him back to level 28, only using his broken ankle when completely necessary. This wasn't going to go down well with Dr. Fraiser.

"Janet, have you seen Colonel O'Neill?" Sam asked as she entered the Infirmary, having just come from O'Neill's empty quarters.

"No," Janet almost grunted at the thought of the stubborn Colonel. "I tried talking to him, like you asked. He's the most stubborn person I've ever met!"

"I know, I know," Sam agreed. "What happened?"

"He was in bed, asleep when I went to see him. I felt awful. Mind you, when he tried to get up and nearly fell, I didn't feel so bad. I told him I thought he should spend a day or so in the Infirmary under observation, but of course he didn't like that idea. So, after arguing a little, he promptly told me to get out and I did. He didn't have to tell me twice, I can tell you. I feel bad for having left, though. He isn't well, you were definitely right on the mark with that. I'm worried he may get Pneumonia. The way he was looking, it's quite possible if he doesn't do anything about it, he'll just get worse rather than better."

"I know. I could see that just by looking," Sam said, following the doctor as she walked to her office and sat down behind her desk.

"There's not a lot I can do, Sam," Fraiser said honestly.

"Yeah. I know."

Jack hobbled his way down the corridor toward the Infirmary, the pain flashing through his leg like electric sparks. As he entered the Infirmary, and noticed the lack of Dr. Fraiser in it, he continued to hobble over to a bed, when his ankle finally gave way. He'd been using it enough now, and it could no longer cope. As he leaned his weight on it to take another step, it crumbled and pain shot through his leg like an explosion. The yell of pain that escaped his mouth was unstoppable. He hit the floor with a thud, and didn't bother to try to get up this time. Janet and Sam heard the thump from the office and quickly went out to investigate the source. When they saw Jack lying on the floor, soaking wet, covered in mud and his face and hands smeared in blood, they rushed to him and knelt by his side. "Colonel? What happened? Where have you been?" Janet fired questions at him quickly. The quicker they were answered, the quicker she could establish just what was wrong.

"Ankle," Jack said, "oh God, I think it's broken."

"It's definitely broken, Sir," Sam affirmed.

"How did you do this?" Fraiser demanded.

"Running."

"Where were you running?"

"The surface."

"Why?"

"Janet, I think you should do something about this," Sam intervened in the Doctor's interrogation.

Sighing heavily with frustration, Janet got up and went to collect some bandages and antiseptic.

When she was out of earshot, Sam whispered: "What were you doing, Colonel? The weather has been like this everyday, lately. You've already got something from being up there. Are you trying to get sick?"

"I tripped, Carter," Jack said. "That's all."

"Yes, but the fact that you even went to the surface doesn't make sense. It's been raining like that for days. You knew that, and you knew it'd still be raining today. What I don't understand, Sir, is why - "

"Ok," Janet said, upon her return, "do you think you can stand for just a minute, Colonel? It'd be easier to do all this if you were on a bed."

Jack didn't bother to respond, but with some support from Sam and the nearby bedside table, he managed to get across and onto a bed, where Janet began to bandage his broken ankle.

"Once I've finished doing this, Colonel," Janet said sternly, "you will stay here, in this bed, until I say you are fit to leave it. Do you understand, or should I ask General Hammond to order you to stay here?" From Jack's lack of response, Janet knew she'd effectively made her point - however sarcastically.

"Janet," a voice called as its owner followed, into the Infirmary.

"Kayla," Fraiser responded, on a brighter note than previously used with Colonel O'Neill. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kayla answered distractedly as she approached the bed containing the injured Colonel, her eyes never leaving him. "What happened here?"

"The Colonel, here, went for a run on the surface this afternoon and broke his ankle. He is now bound to this bed, however unwillingly, until I say he can go." "It's pouring with rain up there, Colonel," Kayla said with concern. "You'll get sick."

"I know," Jack said simply.

"And yet you still went running up there?" Kayla asked incredulously.

Although the continual and repetitive questions were beginning to get on his nerves and sound like nails scratching down a chalkboard, nonchalantly, Jack nodded.

"Yes."

Janet, Sam and Kayla all surveyed the man, before leaving him alone and moving their thoughts to Janet's office. "Why is he doing this to himself, Kayla?" Sam asked immediately after the door was closed.

"I can't say for sure, just yet," Kayla mused, "but I think he may be punishing himself."

"What for?" Janet queried.

"For what he suffered through, for being weak, for any number of things. I'm not sure, it's just a theory."

"Well, you had better find out just what is going on in his head, because if he keeps this up, he'll end up killing himself. From this second incident, I'm almost certain he'll contract pneumonia, and if he doesn't, he'll get damn close."

"Let me talk with him. I'll see what I can find out. It has to be something. He wouldn't be doing this to himself without a reason."

"He tripped," Sam said. "He didn't purposely fall."

"No, but he went to the surface for a second time knowing it would be raining again," Janet said, "just like it has been every other day this week. He must have been running up and down the slope of the mountain, which - given the fact that he almost couldn't stand when I went to see him - would have taken considerable effort, when you also remember that the rain alone would make it difficult to run up there. So, he had quite a few factors stacked against him."

"It's the second time he's been to the surface when it's been raining like that?" Kayla asked, not knowing about the incident a few days before.

"Yes, the day he left your quarters and I showed you that piece of paper? You remember?" Sam asked.

"Yes, yes, I remember," Kayla nodded, remembering the day.

"That day, I found Colonel O'Neill sitting on the surface and it started to rain while I was there. I eventually went inside, but the Colonel stayed on the surface. He was up there quite a while before he came in, and I don't think he got properly dry, but I can't be sure about that."

"Twice," Kayla murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "He's punishing himself for something. He's making himself feel pain for something. Making himself suffer. Let me talk with him a while. You two go about whatever, and I'll just have a friendly little chat with our Colonel. I'll let you know what I come up with later."

With that, the trio each took different directions from Janet's office. Sam went back to her lab to pretend to work, Janet stayed in her office and tried to sift through her mounds of paperwork and Kayla went back out into the Infirmary and sat by Colonel O'Neill's bed. Jack looked at the Irish woman with a knowing expression. He knew she was there to extract information. Not this time, he thought. I know what everyone is trying to do, and I'm not playing dumb anymore.

"You know why I'm here, Colonel," Kayla stated, rather than asked. She knew he knew. They'd talked enough for him to know she was always going to be doing her job when they spoke. She wasn't going to act as though she thought he didn't know. She wasn't going to pretend. Most doctors did that, and she knew he wasn't the type to go along with it. He was the type to quickly wise up to the act and hate it. She hated it too.

"So why are you bothering?" Jack asked the obvious.

"Because I know you're doing this to yourself for a reason. I know you're not just trying to draw attention to yourself. I know you're not pretending to have something wrong with you, because I know that isn't you. I know you're hurting, and I know you're trying to prove something to yourself. All I don't know, is what."

"For someone I haven't known very long, you sure know a hell of a lot about me. More than I know, even. And I thought you were just a regular shrink, here to tell me to lay down on a bed, think back to where the problems started and talk through my tragic life while you pretend to listen as you play naughts and crosses on your notepad and charge me five or six hundred dollars an hour."

"Well, I guess you don't know me very well then, do you, Colonel?" Kayla said.

"Guess not," Jack replied sarcastically.

"Let me clear some things up for you, then. Number one; you're already lying down. Number two; if you have any problems, I don't want you to tell me when they started, because it's my job to find that out. Number three; I don't want you to talk through your tragic life, because I know that won't help. Number four, I don't pretend to listen to anyone, I either listen or I don't, and I do not play games. And number five; I don't charge five or six hundred dollars an hour. In fact, I don't charge anything. The Pentagon pays me, and even if they didn't, I wouldn't charge absurd amounts like that."

With a nod, Kayla got up and left. Let him think that over for a night, she thought. Jack watched her go then looked at his watch. 16:28. That couldn't be the right time. It had stopped. Damn thing is supposed to be waterproof, Jack thought begrudgingly.

"Doc, what's the time?" he asked as Doctor Fraiser came out from her office. Narrowing her eyes slightly at the injured Colonel, Fraiser checked her watch.

"Nearly 22:00," she answered.

Jack was surprised. His watch must have stopped before he went to the surface. Maybe the other day. It didn't matter. It was then he realised, though, just how tired he was. He hadn't been sleeping properly when Dr. Fraiser came to see him in his quarters earlier in the day. He wasn't sure if he'd been sleeping at all. Just trying to ignore the nausea. Before he even realised, Jack was drifting off to sleep and within minutes, was asleep.

As Janet passed by his bed again, on her way back to her office, she saw O'Neill was sleeping and found a smile on her face. She was glad he was finally resting and especially glad he was somewhere she could keep an eye on him. She could see the sickness in his face and hoped it didn't get too bad, but was afraid it might. Pulling the blankets up over him, Janet whispered: "Sleep well, Colonel."