Eventually it was Anderson who had to call the final stop of the day. The
Major had literally run himself ragged and had managed to go far longer
than Sam had ever believed he could – and his urgency had driven her to go
further than she'd ever believed she could, either. But he was only a month
off from being badly wounded himself, and only a couple days into recovery
after a long month of trekking far distances on short rations, and though
the spirit was still willing, Anderson's body gave out. He tripped in the
semi dark, and fell, and he didn't get up.
Carter stopped, holding her side and breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. Sweat was streaming off her, and her side was so badly cramped that it felt like she was going to turn inside out at any minute. She was in good shape, but she had never been a marathon runner, especially with a pack on her back.
When she got her breath back a little, and realized that Anderson still hadn't moved from where he'd fallen, Carter stumbled over to him, and flopped down beside him.
"Brad?"
He groaned, and made a wave of his hand to show her he wasn't dead, but that was about it.
"We have to stop, Samantha."
The two had decided that there was no reason for them to continue being so formal, when there was no one else around to see them calling each other 'Major'. Besides, they were the same rank, so it wasn't a big deal. Mitchell and O'Neill didn't call each other 'Colonel', did they?
"It's okay." She pulled her pack off, and took a drink of water, wishing she had a large pool to soak in at that moment. She was so hot! "Have a drink, Brad, and I'll get us some dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
He wasn't moving, either, and Carter leaned over and pulled on his shoulder, forcing him to sit up. It wasn't completely dark, but it was getting close, and she couldn't see his face all that clearly, but she could see the haunted look in his eyes, and knew exactly where his thoughts were.
"I'm sure she's fine." Sam told him, gently, handing him her canteen. "You can't give up on her."
"She hardly spoke to me when we left..." He took a deep breath and then drank a swallow or two of water gratefully before handing her canteen back to Carter.
"We didn't give her much chance to."
He dragged his pack off his back, and flopped down, looking up at the sky. They'd cleared the trees only about half an hour ago, and the going had really been rough after that – made more so by their exhausted condition.
"She's not going to make it, Sam. And I never had a chance to tell her how I feel." His voice was empty, and helpless and Carter felt tears stinging her eyes.
"You don't know that, Brad." Sam told him, reaching out and putting her hand on his leg, which was the closest part of him she could reach. "She's probably sitting around the fire with the guys right now, drinking coffee and playing tic-tac-toe with Colonel O'Neill."
Neither of them believed that, but it was a nice thought, and it was enough to make Anderson at least sit up and stretch out his aching muscles a little so they wouldn't crap too badly during their forced inactivity of the evening. They made a cold camp, with no fire, since neither of them had thought to gather any wood before they'd left the trees. Luckily, they didn't need fire to eat an MRE; they were okay cold. They rubbed each other's legs – again hoping to keep cramping to a minimum – and then wrapped up in their blankets and went to sleep. Neither had the ability to keep their eyes open long enough to stand a watch, and they were both so miserable from their days run that it would have been almost a relief to get eaten by something.
~*~
The others had had just about as rough a day as Carter and Anderson. They'd made decent progress, walking further than Jack could have hoped, but O'Neill was worried. And he was getting more and more worried as each hour passed. Whether it was the motion of the traveling making her sick, or the poison, Mitchell had been wracked with violent spells of nausea and hadn't managed to keep down anything the three of them had given her.
Her right arm was swelling, and Jack had been forced to remove the bandage on the dart wound, which had revealed a nasty looking wound that was oozing blood and puss in equal amounts. He'd poured another bottle of antiseptic on the wound and had rebandaged it a little more loosely this time. That was all that he could do.
They'd stopped for the night after Daniel had tripped in the dark and had fallen hard, taking the stretcher and Teal'c down with him. Jack had tried to catch Melony before she could hit the ground, but he hadn't been ready for Daniel's stumble any more than Daniel or Teal'c had been.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said softly as they eased the injured Colonel into a more comfortable position.
"It's okay, Daniel," Jack told him, checking the bandage on her arm, and wondering – for the hundredth time – if he should remove her cast. He couldn't tell if her lower forearm was swelling or not under the plaster, and he wasn't sure if the cast was hindering or helping. And as before, he decided to do nothing. "We should have stopped when it got dark, but..."
"I know, Jack." Daniel rubbed his hand, which he'd hurt in his last fall, and stood up. "I'll get the fire going."
"Make coffee..." Mitchell said, softly. She was only paying partial attention to what was going on around her, but the fall had jolted her back into some semblance of the here and now, and she'd heard the two talking.
"Yes, Ma'am," Daniel said, reaching down and brushing his fingertips against her cheek before going off to find some wood in the dark.
"I will take first watch, O'Neill." Teal'c's voice came out of the darkness, and Jack could hear fatigue. He shook his head.
"Nah, Teal'c. Take some time and rest." God knew he'd earned it. "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyways."
He looked down at Mitchell, who'd closed her eyes once more and seemed to be sleeping. Probably, she was just appreciating the lack of motion under her. Jack sighed and stretched out beside her – on her uninjured side. He wanted to be close if she needed anything during the night. He took his canteen and dribbled some water from it onto a cloth – which had been a towel earlier that morning until Jack had ripped it up – and wiped her face with it, trying to cool her off a little.
"Jack?"
"Yeah, Melony?" He leaned over, hoping she'd open her eyes.
"I probably should have had that heart to heart with Brad, huh?"
She was giving up on him, and he knew it. Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it – even the day he'd told her that her brother was dead, and there was a dead quality to it that he'd never heard there before. Jack took her hand in his, and squeezed it gently, desperately.
"You can still have it, Melony." He whispered. "You need to tough this out. Please?"
"I like Major Carter..."
Where had that come from?
"I like her, too, Melony."
Mitchell squeezed O'Neill's hand again, and shifted just enough to put her head against his shoulder. She didn't want to be alone, and she didn't want to admit to Jack just how bad she hurt.
"I wish..."
Jack cuddled her gently against him, holding her as closely as he dared, and tried not to move her and trigger another round of retching.
"What do you wish, Melony...?" He asked, trying to keep her alert and talking.
"I wish..." He never heard what it was, though. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep, finally able to relax a little now that her world wasn't spinning so violently around her.
"I wish that, too..." Jack whispered. He held her for a while longer, making sure she was truly asleep and not something far worse, then reluctantly got up and went over to help Daniel set up their camp. Daniel was just as tired as everyone else, after all, and it wasn't fair to leave him to it alone.
Carter stopped, holding her side and breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. Sweat was streaming off her, and her side was so badly cramped that it felt like she was going to turn inside out at any minute. She was in good shape, but she had never been a marathon runner, especially with a pack on her back.
When she got her breath back a little, and realized that Anderson still hadn't moved from where he'd fallen, Carter stumbled over to him, and flopped down beside him.
"Brad?"
He groaned, and made a wave of his hand to show her he wasn't dead, but that was about it.
"We have to stop, Samantha."
The two had decided that there was no reason for them to continue being so formal, when there was no one else around to see them calling each other 'Major'. Besides, they were the same rank, so it wasn't a big deal. Mitchell and O'Neill didn't call each other 'Colonel', did they?
"It's okay." She pulled her pack off, and took a drink of water, wishing she had a large pool to soak in at that moment. She was so hot! "Have a drink, Brad, and I'll get us some dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
He wasn't moving, either, and Carter leaned over and pulled on his shoulder, forcing him to sit up. It wasn't completely dark, but it was getting close, and she couldn't see his face all that clearly, but she could see the haunted look in his eyes, and knew exactly where his thoughts were.
"I'm sure she's fine." Sam told him, gently, handing him her canteen. "You can't give up on her."
"She hardly spoke to me when we left..." He took a deep breath and then drank a swallow or two of water gratefully before handing her canteen back to Carter.
"We didn't give her much chance to."
He dragged his pack off his back, and flopped down, looking up at the sky. They'd cleared the trees only about half an hour ago, and the going had really been rough after that – made more so by their exhausted condition.
"She's not going to make it, Sam. And I never had a chance to tell her how I feel." His voice was empty, and helpless and Carter felt tears stinging her eyes.
"You don't know that, Brad." Sam told him, reaching out and putting her hand on his leg, which was the closest part of him she could reach. "She's probably sitting around the fire with the guys right now, drinking coffee and playing tic-tac-toe with Colonel O'Neill."
Neither of them believed that, but it was a nice thought, and it was enough to make Anderson at least sit up and stretch out his aching muscles a little so they wouldn't crap too badly during their forced inactivity of the evening. They made a cold camp, with no fire, since neither of them had thought to gather any wood before they'd left the trees. Luckily, they didn't need fire to eat an MRE; they were okay cold. They rubbed each other's legs – again hoping to keep cramping to a minimum – and then wrapped up in their blankets and went to sleep. Neither had the ability to keep their eyes open long enough to stand a watch, and they were both so miserable from their days run that it would have been almost a relief to get eaten by something.
~*~
The others had had just about as rough a day as Carter and Anderson. They'd made decent progress, walking further than Jack could have hoped, but O'Neill was worried. And he was getting more and more worried as each hour passed. Whether it was the motion of the traveling making her sick, or the poison, Mitchell had been wracked with violent spells of nausea and hadn't managed to keep down anything the three of them had given her.
Her right arm was swelling, and Jack had been forced to remove the bandage on the dart wound, which had revealed a nasty looking wound that was oozing blood and puss in equal amounts. He'd poured another bottle of antiseptic on the wound and had rebandaged it a little more loosely this time. That was all that he could do.
They'd stopped for the night after Daniel had tripped in the dark and had fallen hard, taking the stretcher and Teal'c down with him. Jack had tried to catch Melony before she could hit the ground, but he hadn't been ready for Daniel's stumble any more than Daniel or Teal'c had been.
"I'm sorry," Daniel said softly as they eased the injured Colonel into a more comfortable position.
"It's okay, Daniel," Jack told him, checking the bandage on her arm, and wondering – for the hundredth time – if he should remove her cast. He couldn't tell if her lower forearm was swelling or not under the plaster, and he wasn't sure if the cast was hindering or helping. And as before, he decided to do nothing. "We should have stopped when it got dark, but..."
"I know, Jack." Daniel rubbed his hand, which he'd hurt in his last fall, and stood up. "I'll get the fire going."
"Make coffee..." Mitchell said, softly. She was only paying partial attention to what was going on around her, but the fall had jolted her back into some semblance of the here and now, and she'd heard the two talking.
"Yes, Ma'am," Daniel said, reaching down and brushing his fingertips against her cheek before going off to find some wood in the dark.
"I will take first watch, O'Neill." Teal'c's voice came out of the darkness, and Jack could hear fatigue. He shook his head.
"Nah, Teal'c. Take some time and rest." God knew he'd earned it. "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyways."
He looked down at Mitchell, who'd closed her eyes once more and seemed to be sleeping. Probably, she was just appreciating the lack of motion under her. Jack sighed and stretched out beside her – on her uninjured side. He wanted to be close if she needed anything during the night. He took his canteen and dribbled some water from it onto a cloth – which had been a towel earlier that morning until Jack had ripped it up – and wiped her face with it, trying to cool her off a little.
"Jack?"
"Yeah, Melony?" He leaned over, hoping she'd open her eyes.
"I probably should have had that heart to heart with Brad, huh?"
She was giving up on him, and he knew it. Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it – even the day he'd told her that her brother was dead, and there was a dead quality to it that he'd never heard there before. Jack took her hand in his, and squeezed it gently, desperately.
"You can still have it, Melony." He whispered. "You need to tough this out. Please?"
"I like Major Carter..."
Where had that come from?
"I like her, too, Melony."
Mitchell squeezed O'Neill's hand again, and shifted just enough to put her head against his shoulder. She didn't want to be alone, and she didn't want to admit to Jack just how bad she hurt.
"I wish..."
Jack cuddled her gently against him, holding her as closely as he dared, and tried not to move her and trigger another round of retching.
"What do you wish, Melony...?" He asked, trying to keep her alert and talking.
"I wish..." He never heard what it was, though. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep, finally able to relax a little now that her world wasn't spinning so violently around her.
"I wish that, too..." Jack whispered. He held her for a while longer, making sure she was truly asleep and not something far worse, then reluctantly got up and went over to help Daniel set up their camp. Daniel was just as tired as everyone else, after all, and it wasn't fair to leave him to it alone.