The
flashing of the emergency vehicles gave the scene of the accident a
nightmarish quality. Even before the Airforce sedan fully stopped up
at the scene, Janet jumped out, pulling her emergency kit with her.
Her senses were assaulted with the sounds and the smells of the
accident. The misty rain mingled with the pungent smell of burnt
rubber and the sooty smell of smoke. The symphony of the two trucks
horns crooning in the dark sent shivers down her spine.
There
was work to be done.
Flashing her military badge at the police
officer at the edge of the scene, she quickly made her way to the
vehicles, trying to find the medic in charge. Two ambulances were
stationed on the side of the road, their rear doors side open, the
stretchers already deployed closer to the accident itself.
Janet
made her way closer noticing that the mood of the rescuers was not
optimistic. Snagging the sleeve of a passing fire fighter, she
managed to get his attention. "What's the status of the
victims?"
He sighed, turning back to look at the two
trucks, their metals twisted and intertwined together in a horrible
sculpture of death and destruction. Janet's eyes had followed his
glance, taking in the scene in all its obscene glory. The occasional
flash of the crime scene photographer's flashbulb illuminated the
night, small flashes of brilliance in the darkness. "Two DOA and
one very close."
"Which one?" Janet asked, her
heart in her throat, fear nearly overwhelming her. What would she
tell Daniel, Sam, and Teal'c? What would she tell Cassie? "Who
is alive?"
"Well, if you call it that," he
said, and pointed to the truck that had been impaled by a tree, the
truck's front end embracing the tree trunk in a death grip of
metal. "He's in this vehicle here. We're trying to cut him
out now, but we're not sure if it'll make any
difference."
Relief nearly flooded over her when the man
pointed to Colonel's O'Neill's truck—or what was left of
it.
"That's all I needed to know," Janet said,
patting the man's arm before moving on, her stride purposeful. As
she got closer, the smell of smoke, burnt wiring, gas, antifreeze,
and blood mingled together into a nearly overwhelming kaleidoscope of
odors.
There were several men working around the Colonel's
truck, their moves precise, their faces grim and determined. She
approached the passenger side, the only place she'd be able to
access Jack's prone form lying within. "I'm Doctor Fraiser,
Colonel O'Neill's physician. What's his status?" she
asked, her voice firm.
"It's hard to tell, ma'am,"
one young man replied, stepping back a little from the truck. "He
hasn't regained consciousness since we arrived. It looks like he's
pinned—his left arm and the lower part of his body. He had a cut on
his temple that's bleeding, so we think that he may have hit his
head as well. Unlike the other two victims, he was wearing his
seatbelt and the airbags deployed, otherwise I'm sure he'd be
dead right now. It's hard to maneuver in there, so we've only
managed to apply a bandage to try and stem the bleeding as best we
can. His airway is clear and there isn't anything very obvious. The
only thing is that we're not sure how long he's been here."
"Let
me see what I can do," Janet said, hefting her bag and eyeing
the twisted remains of the truck. A hand on her arm held her
back.
"Ma'am, it's not really safe. There's a gas leak
somewhere and we're working as quickly as we can to get him out. It
would be better for you—"
"Better for me maybe,"
Janet said, cutting him off. "But not for the Colonel. Now, I'm
getting in that truck with or without your help. Is that
understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, nodding
slightly, understanding bright in his eyes. "Since you're so
small, you might be able to squeeze in through the passenger side
window. The door seems to be jammed. Let me give you a hand."
"Thank
you," Janet replied, her voice thick with appreciation and
gratitude for not having to explain. Dropping her bag, the young man
helped her climb into the truck's cab—a little awkward in her
skirt—and lifted her bag in after her. "Can you shine a little
more light in here?" She asked, looking around in the cramped
compartment, trying to figure out the best way to sit. There was
glass and metal and bits of wood and leaves everywhere. A branch had
gone through the windshield—grazing O'Neill's right shoulder
and leaving a bleeding gash—which had been bandaged—and extending
into the rear set of seats. If it had been only a few inches toward
the left, she would be calling General Hammond to organize a
wake.
Jack was breathing—always a good sign. It sounded a
little shallow, but that was okay for now.
"Sir?"
Janet asked, scooting closer, trying to work around the tree limb,
trying to touch his face. Even unconscious, Janet always believed
that touch was important. Sometimes, that was all the comfort a
patient could receive. "Jack? Can you hear me?"
Lightly
touching the side of his face closest to her, Janet was surprised at
how cool he was—especially because it wasn't a cold night. He was
going into shock and Janet would be surprised if he wasn't bleeding
out somewhere. She needed to see what was going on.
Leaving
her hand on the side of Jack's face, she turned her head and yelled
out the window of the truck once again, trying to be heard over the
blaring horns and the metal cutting saws that were trying to free
Jack's body from the wreckage. "I need more light in here. Can
someone give me some light?"
"Hang on, Doctor,"
the same young man replied a moment later, leaning into the cab.
"We're working on it. We're just trying to run a line back
to the truck. Give us a minute."
"Just hurry,"
Janet said, turning back to her patient. Her hand slid down from
Jack's cheek to rest lightly on this neck, her fingers poised above
the artery, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but light and
feathery.
As she was about ready to pull her fingers away, she
felt him move his head a little, a soft groan coming from deep in
this throat.
"Jack?" she asked, moving closer,
trying to lean over the branch to look into his face. She didn't
want him to move too much just in case he had a neck injury. "Jack,
can you hear me? If you can, I need you to stay as still as you can.
We're trying to get you out of here."
He moaned again,
this time louder, and his lips moved slightly. He was coming around
and he was trying to speak. Janet had to move closer to try and hear
what he was saying. Nearly lying across the branch, she placed her
ear next to his mouth, trying to catch his words.
"Jack,"
she said, her hand squeezing his shoulder a little as she balanced
herself against the crushed and mangled console. "Jack, can you
hear me? I need you to repeat what you just said."
Leaning
close, his lips barely touching her ear, she strained to listen for
his words.
"Hurts."
Her heart nearly broke
at his declaration. "Yes, Jack, I know it hurts. We're working
as quickly as we can. Do you know what happened?"
Janet
thought that he might have dropped back into unconsciousness because
several beats passed before he answered. "Accident.
Truck...slammed...into me...then hit the tree."
He was
coherent, but the answers were coming a little slower than she would
have liked. "Yes, Jack. You were in an accident. We're trying
to get you out. You have to hold on."
"Janet...it
hurts."
"I know, Jack. I know." She leaned back
and found herself looking directly into his dark brown orbs, filled
with pain—and fear. "Where does it hurt the most?"
His
eyes closed and he was silent for a minute before he opened his eyes
again, locking his gaze with hers. "...Can't feel
anything...from waist down...head hurts....arm hurts...both
arms..."
No feeling from the waist down was not a good
sign. She turned her head again, looking into the darkness beyond. "I
need light in here!" she yelled again.
"Coming right
up, Doctor," came the reply and, sure enough, a bright light
clicked on, illuminating the front cab of Jack's truck and nearly
blinding her in the process.
Things were better in the
dark.
In the harsh light provided by the bare bulb, Jack was
ghostly white against the dark fabric of the seat. His left arm was
pinned against him and what had been the driver's side door. There
was no blood but if Janet had to guess, the arm, and possibly the
ribs on his left side, was broken.
Broken ribs and arms would
mend easily enough.
Aiming her glance downward, Janet realized
just how extensively Jack was pinned. The engine compartment had
moved backward several feet and most of the driver's side console
was sitting in Jack's lap, pressing him into the seat and possibly
cutting off the circulation to his extremities.
She bent
down, trying to see around the branch. Reaching down with her free
hand and bracing herself against the front console, she felt her way
as best she could, looking for any obvious signs of broken bones and
trying to feel for a pulse along his legs. She found one, very faint,
but it was there.
"Doc..." Jack whispered and Janet
pulled her head up to see what he wanted.
"What is it,
Jack?"
"...Getting a little...personal...aren't
you?"
If things weren't so serious, she would have
laughed. "No more than usual, Jack." Even in pain, Jack
O'Neill's main concern was always everyone else. His eyes were
partially closed against the bright light, but a gleam of humor was
clearly evident.
"...Just checking...everything still
there, Doc?"
"As far as I can tell, Jack. There
might be some broken bones, but I won't know that for sure until we
move you. Right now it looks like you're going to sit still for a
little while."
"I can do that."
Janet
leaned back, resting her hand against the side of his face. "I'd
rather not give you anything for the pain until I can check you out
fully. Are you okay or do you need something?"
"Fine,
Doc. Just peachy."
"Okay," she said, looking
out of the truck when something caught her attention. "I'll be
right back, Jack."
"...'kay."
Scooting
closer to the window, she waved the same young man to her side. "How
are we doing with getting him out of here? It looks like he's
pinned from the waist down and I'm not sure what kind of damage may
have been done. I really need to get him to a medical facility
soon."
"I know, Doctor," he said, glancing to
the two figures on the other side of the vehicle, his eyes narrowing
as he tried to estimate their progress. "It's tough going, but
I think we should have him out in a few minutes."
"Okay,"
Janet sighed. "Do you have a neck brace available?"
"Yes,
I do."
"Can you grab it? I'd like to start
prepping him to be transferred. We're going to have to move quickly
once he's out. I'm a little worried since he claims he can't
feel his legs."
"Sure, hang on," he said,
stepping away toward the stretchers sitting several feet from the
vehicles. He returned a few beats later, a plastic collar in hand.
"Here you go. Do you want to try and see if you can lay the seat
back any? It might give you a little more room. It'll make it
easier to get him out later."
Looking back at O'Neill,
she made up her mind quickly. "Actually, that would be great if
we can do it. I'm not sure if the seat will move or not."
"Let
me see if I can get in the back seat so I can help you," he
said, trying to wrench the rear door open. It took several tries, but
eventually it gave with a grating of metal against metal. He climbed
in quickly and offered a low whistle when he saw how far the tree
branch extended. "This could have been a lot worse."
Janet
didn't answer, but nodded her agreement as she carefully placed the
collar on Jack's neck, immobilizing it. His eyes were still open,
staring straight ahead, but were a little out of focus. They really
need to hurry.
"Well, okay then," he said, rubbing
his hands together and taking a good look at the chair and the
offending branch. "As long as the seat doesn't get hung up on
the side wall we should be okay. What do you think?"
"Well,"
Janet said, reaching over to feel along Jack's left arm. "I
don't think his arm is tied to the truck, so yes, we should be
okay."
"Okay," he said, moving around in the
back seat. "I think I can reach the seat controls from here. How
do you want to do this?"
"Let's lean him back a
little at a time," Janet said, looking at Jack critically. He
didn't look good and she didn't like his color.
"All
right," the medic said, his voice muffled against the back of
the driver's seat. "Here we go. Tell me when to
stop."
"Okay," Janet said, nodding and placing
a hand against Jack's cheek. She leaned in closer to him to make
sure he understood what was going on. "Jack, we're going to
lean you back a little to prep you to get you out of here. Tell me if
anything changes, okay?"
Jack blinked once.
"...'kay."
Janet looked up, eyeing the medic as he
lowered the seat back millimeter by millimeter. So far so good, she
thought. Jack's left arm was slowly becoming free and Janet leaned
further over the branch to help guide the limb free.
"Aghhhhh!"
Jack cried.
"What Jack?" Janet asked, her eyes
wide. The medic had also stopped moving the seat back. They'd
gotten it down a few inches, allowing Jack to recline a
little.
"....Arm....oh God...that hurts."
"Jack,
stay still for a minute. I'm going to try to put a temporary splint
on it to keep it from moving again. Okay?"
Jack blinked
once, his teeth fastened securely on his bottom lip.
"Can
you—" Janet started to say, but was cut off.
"I'm
on it," the medic said already halfway out of the truck. "I'm
going to grab some saline as well. He's going to need it."
Janet
nodded quickly, her eyes fixed intently on the man before her whose
brown eyes were starting to tear.
"Hold on, Jack,"
Janet said, her voice nearly breaking. This was the worst part of the
job—being helpless while someone was in pain. "We're working
as fast as we can."
"...I know, Janet...I know...you
wouldn't think...that this would...hurt so much..."Jack closed
his eyes. Janet's hand immediately slid to his neck, checking for a
pulse. After a frantic few seconds she found it. He'd worried her
for a minute.
"Here," the medic said, hopping
carefully back into the rear of the cab and handing Janet an arm
splint.
"Okay, Jack, this is going to hurt. Are you
ready?" Janet asked, trying to position herself so she'd be
able to splint the arm in place quickly.
"Ready."
She almost didn't hear Jack's whispered reply. Five
minutes later the arm was splinted amid a round of Jack's more
creative curses. He'd gone limp halfway through, his eyes rolling
back in his head. After a quick check of his pulse, she finished the
splint and then inserted the IV line into the back of his right hand,
hooking the saline bag to the hook on the grip handle above the rear
window. She also pulled an ampoule of morphine from her bag and
quickly inserted a dosage into the IV stream. She wasn't sure if it
was the best thing to do, but she couldn't sit here with him in
agony. At least it would help Jack manage the pain somewhat.
"Okay,
let's put the seat down the rest of the way. We're probably going
to have to take him out through the tailgate," Janet said,
wiping the sweat off of her brow as she settled back down in the
debris-covered seat.
"Maybe," the medic said. He
narrowed his eyes a little as he gazed out of the shattered front
window. "We're probably going to have to move out of here
soon, Doctor. They're about ready to lift the roof off."
Janet
followed his gaze as the two men moved around to the front of the
truck, one on each side. She'd been able to ignore what they'd
been doing, her attention focused intently on Jack, not realizing
what they were planning.
"Why are they taking the roof
off?"
"I think they're going to try and slid him
out from under the console once they get something to lever it up,"
he said, his eyes still fixed on the figured outside. "Okay,
they're ready. We've got to get out of here."
"But—"
"Doctor,
now. You're just making this take longer if you argue."
Janet
sighed and placed a hand on Jack's cheek. "I'll be right
back, Jack. We're going to get you out."
The medic
helped her climb out of the truck and they stepped back several paces
as the saws once more got back to work, cutting through the metal
with ease.
"I'm Keith, by the way," the medic
said, offering a hand.
"Janet Fraiser," she answered
automatically as she grasped his hand warmly. Her attention, though,
was focused on the truck before her.
"You care a lot
about him, don't you?" Keith said, his voice quiet, barely
reaching her across the distance.
Janet glanced over at him
quickly, trying to gauge his reason for asking. "We're
friends...good friends."
"I can tell," Keith
said with a smile. "It shows in the way you are with him. I wish
more doctors were like you, taking such an interest in their
patients."
"Unfortunately, in the Colonel's line
of work, he ends up visiting my infirmary more than he should,"
Janet said, turning back to the scene before her. They had called a
number of other volunteers together because they were about ready to
raise the roof.
"Once they get the roof off it should go
quickly," Keith said, answering Janet's next question.
"I
know," Janet said. "It's just the waiting..."
Keith
smiled. "I know. Waiting sucks."
