She awoke to the rays of sunlight stabbing through her closed eyelids. Her hand itched
and she lay in bed thinking about this last mission. When would their luck run out, when
would one of them fall and not get up again? Would the only thing she had to show for
her life's work be a hand full of blood, his blood.
That morning she entered the infirmary before seven. She need to see him breathing. She tried to rationalize it to herself but knew better. There he lay a mass of tubes and wires, on his side propped up with pillows. He was covered only by a sheet. With one arm heavily bandaged and immobilized, the nurses decided to forego the hospital gown as just one more thing to contend with if he crashed. Thinking he might be cold she placed her hand on his forearm and was surprised to feel the heat. She pressed the call button and flew to Janet's office. No, not Janet's anymore, one more pain to contend with, one more empty gapping hole in her soul. She roused the doctor on call and followed him back to O'Neill's bedside.
They had planned to make a more thorough examination of his back later that day when they were confident that his condition was not only stable but improved. When the arrows were examined and analyzed for any traces of poisons they noticed some of the tips were splintered or broken. They surmised that the pieces were either in his pack, clothing or his back. So they rolled him slightly more onto his chest, the sheet sliding down to barely cover his hip, while the doctor sat behind him probing the puncture wounds in his back. There were calls for instruments and better lighting, she heard none of this, she saw only him. Sam stood by his head, feeling for all the world as though she were protecting her fallen comrade. When they probed a particularly deep wound and extracted a large chuck of wood, some fool grasped his bandaged shoulder to steady him, he gasped in pain as his eyes flew open. He saw her, tried to say her name with no strength behind his words, tried to reach out to her with no strength to move an arm. He didn't know where he was or why they were torturing him only that she was there with him and he could trust her. His eyes would not stay open. He tried again and her name came out in a hiss of breathe, barely vocalized. This she heard, not the doctors orders, not the clatter of instruments, she heard him.
That morning she entered the infirmary before seven. She need to see him breathing. She tried to rationalize it to herself but knew better. There he lay a mass of tubes and wires, on his side propped up with pillows. He was covered only by a sheet. With one arm heavily bandaged and immobilized, the nurses decided to forego the hospital gown as just one more thing to contend with if he crashed. Thinking he might be cold she placed her hand on his forearm and was surprised to feel the heat. She pressed the call button and flew to Janet's office. No, not Janet's anymore, one more pain to contend with, one more empty gapping hole in her soul. She roused the doctor on call and followed him back to O'Neill's bedside.
They had planned to make a more thorough examination of his back later that day when they were confident that his condition was not only stable but improved. When the arrows were examined and analyzed for any traces of poisons they noticed some of the tips were splintered or broken. They surmised that the pieces were either in his pack, clothing or his back. So they rolled him slightly more onto his chest, the sheet sliding down to barely cover his hip, while the doctor sat behind him probing the puncture wounds in his back. There were calls for instruments and better lighting, she heard none of this, she saw only him. Sam stood by his head, feeling for all the world as though she were protecting her fallen comrade. When they probed a particularly deep wound and extracted a large chuck of wood, some fool grasped his bandaged shoulder to steady him, he gasped in pain as his eyes flew open. He saw her, tried to say her name with no strength behind his words, tried to reach out to her with no strength to move an arm. He didn't know where he was or why they were torturing him only that she was there with him and he could trust her. His eyes would not stay open. He tried again and her name came out in a hiss of breathe, barely vocalized. This she heard, not the doctors orders, not the clatter of instruments, she heard him.