A/N: Sorry to leave you hangin' folks, but sometimes we all need a little
drama in our lives. ;P I'll simply try to update faster.
Thanks for the heart felt input! Now on with the show.
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Jack stood quietly besides Jenna's still form. He didn't want to count the amount of times he's stood by a friend's bedside like this, staring down at them wondering what more could he have done. Her skin was incredibly pale, in stark contrast with the blackness of her hair. The dark bruises under her eyes, which are usually associated with someone whose body has undergone considerable physical strain, appeared sunken. As he reached out to touch her hand, he couldn't help flinching at the coldness of it.
Jack gripped her hand tighter and thought about all the times he'd sparred with her and all the times he'd taken her down to the shooting gallery. He even thought about all the times he'd had a conversation with her. Had she truly been ready to go out into the field? Was there something that he'd missed? Jack new that it was fruitless speculation on his part. A way for him to search for answers where there were none. Truth be told, this was the chance every last one of them took when they stepped through the Stargate. He just wished that if it had to happen, why Jenna?
"O'Neill."
"Wilcox." Jack turned around to find Lt. Colonel Wilcox standing in the entry way and beckoned him in.
"I didn't know that anyone would be here," he said. Wilcox had gone back to the base to personally check on the status of his other two men. He'd felt responsible for their injuries and he needed to see for himself that they were alive and he had not failed them the way he felt he'd failed Jenna. "Should have known better, huh?"
"How ya holdin' up?" Jack asked.
"I don't think I can answer that, Col," he replied, looking down at his teammate.
Jack looked at the Colonel and saw how exhausted he was and could only guess that he looked the same. He had a good idea of what Wilcox was going through and picked up on the fact that Wilcox wasn't ready to discuss it either. Jack heard the whirl of one of the machines as medicine was automatically administered and glanced back at Jenna. He had amazingly been able to block out all the equipment that tethered what little life Jenna had left to this world. Tubes ran form her arms to various IVs and electrodes peeked out from beneath her blanket to connect to the various monitors that were the soul reassurance that life still ran through her veins. The only thing that kept her breathing was a large tube that ran from her mouth to a ventilator. "What did the doctor say?" Wilcox asked, trying to maintain a neutral voice. "Will she be okay?"
"Fraiser said she had a fifteen percent chance of recovering. She suffered an abdominal hemorrhage while they were operating, then, as soon as they had patched that one up, she had two more back to back." Jack sighed. "She lost a lot of blood, John. The doc said that, even if she were to come out of this coma she's in, the brain damage that resulted from the blood loss...well, she probably wouldn't even know who she was. She'd essentially be like a child and would have to learn everything over again."
Wilcox didn't know what to say. He came over to the bed, circling to the other side, and sat in the visitor's chair. He laid his hand atop her's and then leaned his head against the bedside railing. He stayed like that for several minutes and Jack was about to leave him alone with Jenna when he finally spoke.
"She was like a daughter to me, Jack. I should have done more," he said never raising his head.
"And what could you have done, John?" he asked. Jack knew where this was going and he knew Wilcox well enough to know that, whatever the circumstances, he would have done whatever it took to make sure he could get Jenna out if he could. "I read your report and that of the others. You did every thing you could given the circumstances."
"No. I didn't," he said, finally looking up. Jack saw the pain in his eyes as Wilcox finally let down his defenses. "It should have been me behind that pillar, *not* her. As her commanding officer, I should have been covering her not the other way around."
"You were seeing to the safety of two injured men. Jenna was...*is* an excellent marksman, and could out shoot you any day of the week and you know it. She was the best person to lay down cover fire then and she was the best person to do so on those other missions when you needed her too. I would have made the same decision you did."
Wilcox sighed in resignation. He knew Jack was right about that part at least, but it didn't do anything to alleviate his guilt. No, what really gnawed at his gut was the fact that he'd asked her to extend her abilities to get help. He'd known just by looking at her that she wouldn't have lasted the day if help didn't come soon. And at the time, he'd hadn't known there would be any physical repercussions to her mental jaunt. But as soon as he realized that she was weakening, it had been too late to get her back. She'd almost stopped breathing twice as he waited for her to return to her body and did so a third time. It'd taken almost a minute of mouth to mouth before she started breathing on her own again. He'd just been thankful that her heart hadn't stopped. How do you do chest compressions on someone with broken ribs without causing more damage?
He shared this with Jack and the Colonel could say nothing. The psychic stuff had always been beyond him, so he had no words to battle the guilt that weighed heavily on Wilcox's shoulders. So he said the only thing that he could. "You looked out for her, Wilcox. She didn't get left behind and you got her home the only way you could." With that, Jack walked out of the room and hoped that Wilcox had listened.
Thanks for the heart felt input! Now on with the show.
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Jack stood quietly besides Jenna's still form. He didn't want to count the amount of times he's stood by a friend's bedside like this, staring down at them wondering what more could he have done. Her skin was incredibly pale, in stark contrast with the blackness of her hair. The dark bruises under her eyes, which are usually associated with someone whose body has undergone considerable physical strain, appeared sunken. As he reached out to touch her hand, he couldn't help flinching at the coldness of it.
Jack gripped her hand tighter and thought about all the times he'd sparred with her and all the times he'd taken her down to the shooting gallery. He even thought about all the times he'd had a conversation with her. Had she truly been ready to go out into the field? Was there something that he'd missed? Jack new that it was fruitless speculation on his part. A way for him to search for answers where there were none. Truth be told, this was the chance every last one of them took when they stepped through the Stargate. He just wished that if it had to happen, why Jenna?
"O'Neill."
"Wilcox." Jack turned around to find Lt. Colonel Wilcox standing in the entry way and beckoned him in.
"I didn't know that anyone would be here," he said. Wilcox had gone back to the base to personally check on the status of his other two men. He'd felt responsible for their injuries and he needed to see for himself that they were alive and he had not failed them the way he felt he'd failed Jenna. "Should have known better, huh?"
"How ya holdin' up?" Jack asked.
"I don't think I can answer that, Col," he replied, looking down at his teammate.
Jack looked at the Colonel and saw how exhausted he was and could only guess that he looked the same. He had a good idea of what Wilcox was going through and picked up on the fact that Wilcox wasn't ready to discuss it either. Jack heard the whirl of one of the machines as medicine was automatically administered and glanced back at Jenna. He had amazingly been able to block out all the equipment that tethered what little life Jenna had left to this world. Tubes ran form her arms to various IVs and electrodes peeked out from beneath her blanket to connect to the various monitors that were the soul reassurance that life still ran through her veins. The only thing that kept her breathing was a large tube that ran from her mouth to a ventilator. "What did the doctor say?" Wilcox asked, trying to maintain a neutral voice. "Will she be okay?"
"Fraiser said she had a fifteen percent chance of recovering. She suffered an abdominal hemorrhage while they were operating, then, as soon as they had patched that one up, she had two more back to back." Jack sighed. "She lost a lot of blood, John. The doc said that, even if she were to come out of this coma she's in, the brain damage that resulted from the blood loss...well, she probably wouldn't even know who she was. She'd essentially be like a child and would have to learn everything over again."
Wilcox didn't know what to say. He came over to the bed, circling to the other side, and sat in the visitor's chair. He laid his hand atop her's and then leaned his head against the bedside railing. He stayed like that for several minutes and Jack was about to leave him alone with Jenna when he finally spoke.
"She was like a daughter to me, Jack. I should have done more," he said never raising his head.
"And what could you have done, John?" he asked. Jack knew where this was going and he knew Wilcox well enough to know that, whatever the circumstances, he would have done whatever it took to make sure he could get Jenna out if he could. "I read your report and that of the others. You did every thing you could given the circumstances."
"No. I didn't," he said, finally looking up. Jack saw the pain in his eyes as Wilcox finally let down his defenses. "It should have been me behind that pillar, *not* her. As her commanding officer, I should have been covering her not the other way around."
"You were seeing to the safety of two injured men. Jenna was...*is* an excellent marksman, and could out shoot you any day of the week and you know it. She was the best person to lay down cover fire then and she was the best person to do so on those other missions when you needed her too. I would have made the same decision you did."
Wilcox sighed in resignation. He knew Jack was right about that part at least, but it didn't do anything to alleviate his guilt. No, what really gnawed at his gut was the fact that he'd asked her to extend her abilities to get help. He'd known just by looking at her that she wouldn't have lasted the day if help didn't come soon. And at the time, he'd hadn't known there would be any physical repercussions to her mental jaunt. But as soon as he realized that she was weakening, it had been too late to get her back. She'd almost stopped breathing twice as he waited for her to return to her body and did so a third time. It'd taken almost a minute of mouth to mouth before she started breathing on her own again. He'd just been thankful that her heart hadn't stopped. How do you do chest compressions on someone with broken ribs without causing more damage?
He shared this with Jack and the Colonel could say nothing. The psychic stuff had always been beyond him, so he had no words to battle the guilt that weighed heavily on Wilcox's shoulders. So he said the only thing that he could. "You looked out for her, Wilcox. She didn't get left behind and you got her home the only way you could." With that, Jack walked out of the room and hoped that Wilcox had listened.