Oh, the soppiness. I did try to keep it at a bare minimum because I think
that if the writing becomes overly sentimental then it takes the magic out
of the scene. By the way, all of the science stuff is right and I have the
book on quantum physics to prove it but the medicine is partly my own
knowledge (probably wrong) and partly guesswork. So if anyone knows
anything about this kind of stuff then could you please let me know. It
would be greatly appreciated.
Sam sighed. She had tried to bury herself in her work but not even the properties of polarized photon pairs could distract her from the harsh reality that faced her; two of her best friends were captured on a planet thousands of light years away with little or no chance of escape, another was slowly dying in a hospital bed down the corridor and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. The helplessness was overwhelming.
She glanced at the clock. It was already six o'clock; maybe she could go and check on the colonel with the excuse of bringing tea.
* * *
Limping into the infirmary with a slightly concerned nurse carrying a tray following her, Sam saw Colonel O'Neill. He looked drawn and depressed; the customary glint that sparkled behind his eyes was gone, replaced by a dullness that was, to Sam, more frightening than his haggard appearance. Under the pressure of guilt, illness and worry his mind had turned in upon itself.
She gestured to the nurse to put the food down and, after she had left, took a seat next to the bed.
"How you holding up Carter?" He asked his voice cracking.
"I'm fine Sir, what about you?"
"I've been better." He shifted slightly and turned to face her.
"Well, I've brought food... Pie." She said, a lot more cheerfully than she felt.
"Er... As tempting as pie sounds Carter, I'm not really that hungry." He said sourly. As if on cue Janet strode into the room with the air of an avenging angel about her.
"Colonel O'Neill!"
"Aww crap," he whispered.
"Did I hear you refusing food?" Not waiting for an answer she continued. "You are going to eat it because tomorrow you may not be able to. Would you want any of SG1 to suffer unnecessarily?" She asked more quietly.
"No, of..." He started.
"Exactly. Sam is trying to help, why don't you listen to her?" She suddenly grinned. "And if I don't come back to find at least half of that gone then I will have to get out the big needles. The really big needles." Smiling at both of them, Janet picked up some papers and walked into her office. Sam stared at her hands not daring to look at O'Neill.
"Napoleonic war monger..." He grumbled not quite under his breath. To Sam's surprise he reached for the tray on the table beside him. "Sorry," he said. He began to eat the pie with painstaking slowness.
"Sir... SG3..." He stopped, the fork midway to his mouth. "Daniel and Teal'c... It wasn't your fault." He closed his eyes for a moment and then continued to eat, not replying. "Maybe I should go." She began to get up.
"Carter. Don't go." He looked at her directly for the first time since she had entered the infirmary. Jack's eyes told her things he couldn't say. "Stay. Talk."
"Ok." Sam smiled sadly.
"So what were you working on in your lab? I assume you were working?" He said through a mouthful of pie.
"Well, if a very weak beam of light is incident on a polarizer..." A faint but familiar expression of bemused confusion crossed his face. "... and the two output beams are directed onto detectors capable of counting individual photons then..."
"Ah! So you were working. You know you should probably get some rest Carter." O'Neill interrupted.
"I'm fine, Sir." Sam insisted. She had often worked sixteen-hour shifts when she was engrossed in some experiment or other. "Shouldn't you? Sir?"
"I think I might catch a little shuteye now, if you don't mind Carter." He grinned half-heartedly. "Got to get the beauty sleep."
"Yes Sir." She raised her eyebrows. "I'll just read my book for a while." She took out a thick, red book from the side of the chair and opened it.
"What book ya got there?" He asked casually.
"Quantum Mechanics in Relation to Einstein's Theory of Relativity and the..."
"Woa! Forget I asked." A glimmer of the old O'Neill showed through. "I wish Daniel and T..." And it was lost again. "Goodnight Carter," he said, sinking gently into the pillow and closing his eyes.
"Goodnight Sir."
* * *
Having read solidly for over two and a half hours, Sam was bored, but she needed something to distract her. She could simply not face focusing on her current situation yet; she was still overwhelmed by the very likely possibility that by the end of the week, her three best friends would be missing, never to be seen again, or dead. She blinked away tears and put down her book then glanced around the room disinterestedly. The glow from Janet's office streamed under the door to the right of her, illuminating the half-light of the ward. A heart monitor beeped away in the background, measuring out the time, mocking her. An IV stand was next to her. Her gaze followed the tube down until it reached the bed where it was obscured by the sheets that covered O'Neill's arm.
Colonel O'Neill himself was asleep; the only part of him visible was his head and face, which was slightly turned in towards the pillow so he was resting on his good shoulder, and his hand, dangling over the edge of the bed nearest to Sam. He looked peaceful asleep; he no longer had the tense 'fight or flight' look of a soldier about him and his face was free of worry-lines.
He suddenly shifted slightly and murmured quietly against the pillow. Sam froze but breathed out when she realised he was still asleep. A blush formed on her cheeks and she mentally scolded herself but nonetheless her eyes were still drawn towards the occupant of the bed next to her. His hand was close enough to touch...
The door to Janet's office creaked open and Sam jerked back. She walked in, heels clicking on the hard floor.
"How is he?" She asked.
"Ok. He's asleep." Sam said. Janet pressed a few buttons on the large grey machine that measured his vital signs.
"Hmm... His heart rate is quite slow, even for someone who is sleeping." She said, frowning.
"What does that mean?" Sam said, not really wanting to know the answer.
"It means..." Janet paused and swallowed. "Sam, these are the first signs of an impending coma."
"Impending." Sam repeated.
"Yes. Probably within the next few hours or so but it's hard to say." She said putting her hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Oh. Shouldn't we wake him or something?" What if she didn't get to speak to him again?
"That would to him more harm than good. I'm sorry Sam." Janet said softly. "I'll just go and get General Hammond; he wanted to be kept notified about the colonel's condition." With a glance back at O'Neill, she hurried out of the infirmary, her white coat billowing behind her in her haste.
Sam sat and stared for a while. The last word she had spoken to him had been Sir.
O'Neill's hand was inches away from hers and, without a second thought, she took it gently, forcing herself not to squeeze it so he would wake up and she could speak to him once more.
He breathed in deeply. Then opened his eyes.
"Sir! I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you." Sam said quickly.
"Hmm?" He croaked sleepily. "It's ok." He blinked in the dim lights. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Sir. Just go back to sleep." She almost regretted calling him by his first name because now he knew there was something wrong.
"Carter." He moved a rough thumb over the back of her hand.
"Sir." A ghost of a grin swept over O'Neill's face. "Sleep." She ordered him.
"Yes, Ma'am." He murmured jokingly, then his expression changed abruptly. "Listen, I..."
"I know Jack." Sam knew something was inevitably going to break; her heart or the barriers. "Me too."
There was a moment of taunt silence. Then his eyes closed and his hand went limp. Sam was lost, but then she heard him whisper...
"Sam." And, despite it all, she smiled.
Sam sighed. She had tried to bury herself in her work but not even the properties of polarized photon pairs could distract her from the harsh reality that faced her; two of her best friends were captured on a planet thousands of light years away with little or no chance of escape, another was slowly dying in a hospital bed down the corridor and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. The helplessness was overwhelming.
She glanced at the clock. It was already six o'clock; maybe she could go and check on the colonel with the excuse of bringing tea.
* * *
Limping into the infirmary with a slightly concerned nurse carrying a tray following her, Sam saw Colonel O'Neill. He looked drawn and depressed; the customary glint that sparkled behind his eyes was gone, replaced by a dullness that was, to Sam, more frightening than his haggard appearance. Under the pressure of guilt, illness and worry his mind had turned in upon itself.
She gestured to the nurse to put the food down and, after she had left, took a seat next to the bed.
"How you holding up Carter?" He asked his voice cracking.
"I'm fine Sir, what about you?"
"I've been better." He shifted slightly and turned to face her.
"Well, I've brought food... Pie." She said, a lot more cheerfully than she felt.
"Er... As tempting as pie sounds Carter, I'm not really that hungry." He said sourly. As if on cue Janet strode into the room with the air of an avenging angel about her.
"Colonel O'Neill!"
"Aww crap," he whispered.
"Did I hear you refusing food?" Not waiting for an answer she continued. "You are going to eat it because tomorrow you may not be able to. Would you want any of SG1 to suffer unnecessarily?" She asked more quietly.
"No, of..." He started.
"Exactly. Sam is trying to help, why don't you listen to her?" She suddenly grinned. "And if I don't come back to find at least half of that gone then I will have to get out the big needles. The really big needles." Smiling at both of them, Janet picked up some papers and walked into her office. Sam stared at her hands not daring to look at O'Neill.
"Napoleonic war monger..." He grumbled not quite under his breath. To Sam's surprise he reached for the tray on the table beside him. "Sorry," he said. He began to eat the pie with painstaking slowness.
"Sir... SG3..." He stopped, the fork midway to his mouth. "Daniel and Teal'c... It wasn't your fault." He closed his eyes for a moment and then continued to eat, not replying. "Maybe I should go." She began to get up.
"Carter. Don't go." He looked at her directly for the first time since she had entered the infirmary. Jack's eyes told her things he couldn't say. "Stay. Talk."
"Ok." Sam smiled sadly.
"So what were you working on in your lab? I assume you were working?" He said through a mouthful of pie.
"Well, if a very weak beam of light is incident on a polarizer..." A faint but familiar expression of bemused confusion crossed his face. "... and the two output beams are directed onto detectors capable of counting individual photons then..."
"Ah! So you were working. You know you should probably get some rest Carter." O'Neill interrupted.
"I'm fine, Sir." Sam insisted. She had often worked sixteen-hour shifts when she was engrossed in some experiment or other. "Shouldn't you? Sir?"
"I think I might catch a little shuteye now, if you don't mind Carter." He grinned half-heartedly. "Got to get the beauty sleep."
"Yes Sir." She raised her eyebrows. "I'll just read my book for a while." She took out a thick, red book from the side of the chair and opened it.
"What book ya got there?" He asked casually.
"Quantum Mechanics in Relation to Einstein's Theory of Relativity and the..."
"Woa! Forget I asked." A glimmer of the old O'Neill showed through. "I wish Daniel and T..." And it was lost again. "Goodnight Carter," he said, sinking gently into the pillow and closing his eyes.
"Goodnight Sir."
* * *
Having read solidly for over two and a half hours, Sam was bored, but she needed something to distract her. She could simply not face focusing on her current situation yet; she was still overwhelmed by the very likely possibility that by the end of the week, her three best friends would be missing, never to be seen again, or dead. She blinked away tears and put down her book then glanced around the room disinterestedly. The glow from Janet's office streamed under the door to the right of her, illuminating the half-light of the ward. A heart monitor beeped away in the background, measuring out the time, mocking her. An IV stand was next to her. Her gaze followed the tube down until it reached the bed where it was obscured by the sheets that covered O'Neill's arm.
Colonel O'Neill himself was asleep; the only part of him visible was his head and face, which was slightly turned in towards the pillow so he was resting on his good shoulder, and his hand, dangling over the edge of the bed nearest to Sam. He looked peaceful asleep; he no longer had the tense 'fight or flight' look of a soldier about him and his face was free of worry-lines.
He suddenly shifted slightly and murmured quietly against the pillow. Sam froze but breathed out when she realised he was still asleep. A blush formed on her cheeks and she mentally scolded herself but nonetheless her eyes were still drawn towards the occupant of the bed next to her. His hand was close enough to touch...
The door to Janet's office creaked open and Sam jerked back. She walked in, heels clicking on the hard floor.
"How is he?" She asked.
"Ok. He's asleep." Sam said. Janet pressed a few buttons on the large grey machine that measured his vital signs.
"Hmm... His heart rate is quite slow, even for someone who is sleeping." She said, frowning.
"What does that mean?" Sam said, not really wanting to know the answer.
"It means..." Janet paused and swallowed. "Sam, these are the first signs of an impending coma."
"Impending." Sam repeated.
"Yes. Probably within the next few hours or so but it's hard to say." She said putting her hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Oh. Shouldn't we wake him or something?" What if she didn't get to speak to him again?
"That would to him more harm than good. I'm sorry Sam." Janet said softly. "I'll just go and get General Hammond; he wanted to be kept notified about the colonel's condition." With a glance back at O'Neill, she hurried out of the infirmary, her white coat billowing behind her in her haste.
Sam sat and stared for a while. The last word she had spoken to him had been Sir.
O'Neill's hand was inches away from hers and, without a second thought, she took it gently, forcing herself not to squeeze it so he would wake up and she could speak to him once more.
He breathed in deeply. Then opened his eyes.
"Sir! I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you." Sam said quickly.
"Hmm?" He croaked sleepily. "It's ok." He blinked in the dim lights. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Sir. Just go back to sleep." She almost regretted calling him by his first name because now he knew there was something wrong.
"Carter." He moved a rough thumb over the back of her hand.
"Sir." A ghost of a grin swept over O'Neill's face. "Sleep." She ordered him.
"Yes, Ma'am." He murmured jokingly, then his expression changed abruptly. "Listen, I..."
"I know Jack." Sam knew something was inevitably going to break; her heart or the barriers. "Me too."
There was a moment of taunt silence. Then his eyes closed and his hand went limp. Sam was lost, but then she heard him whisper...
"Sam." And, despite it all, she smiled.