Circles
Chapter 8
He started toward her, fearing the worst, before Graber saw him and hustled him out of the infirmary.
"What's WRONG? Is she okay? Is the baby okay? What's wrong?" Jack asked frantically.
"Shhhh! Calm down, sir, she's fine, she's asleep . . ."
"The baby? Is the baby okay?"
"Everything's fine, now just sit down and let me explain."
Jack sat, looking terrified. Graber sat next to him.
"She had some spotting earlier . . ."
"WHAT? Why didn't she tell me?"
"She came straight here, she wanted me to call you once I finished examining her. Now let me tell you . . ."
"IS SHE OKAY??"
"For God's sake, Jack, shut up and let me explain."
Jack shut up, one knee bouncing nervously.
"The spotting is normal; there's absolutely no indication that anything is wrong with the baby."
Jack sighed. "But Sam, the IV . . ."
"She's dehydrated; that morning sickness is catching up with her. I hooked her up to the IV to pump some nutrients into her and get her re-hydrated."
"You're SURE she's okay?"
"She's FINE. The baby is FINE. I'm not so sure about you, though."
Jack slumped back in his chair.
"Jack, you've got be calm and supportive. Running around panicking won't help her one bit."
Jack sighed and nodded.
"Now, I'd rather you let her sleep. If you want to come in, fine, but don't wake her."
"Should she take leave?"
"Yes, and I know that the only way she'll go is kicking and screaming, so I'm off to talk to Hammond now."
He stood and looked down at Jack. He still looked scared shitless.
"Jack, let me reiterate – THEY'RE BOTH FINE! Now before you go in there put on your happy face, and don't wake her up."
Jack nodded, looking a little dazed. Graber shook his head and headed for Hammond's office.
Graber was the top man in his field, and that was because he was the ONLY man in his field (although that didn't mean he was any less brilliant); an OB/GYN specializing in what he'd come to call "Gate Babies."
Hammond had brought him on in the early days of the SGC after several personnel and various refugees had gone through the Gate before realizing they were pregnant. He'd monitored each pregnancy carefully, even those of refugees off-world; each one had progressed more or less normally.
Well, there was that one instance, when against all social, physical and genetic odds, an Unas and a human female had fallen in love and she had gotten pregnant, somehow; only nobody had bothered to tell Graber who the father was.
So you can imagine his surprise when he delivered something that looked like a cross between a turtle and the Gerber baby; it grinned up at him and he screamed, running around in circles yelling "It's the devil, it's the devil, kill it!"
(He was having a flashback. A long time ago, before joining the Air Force, Graber had watched "Rosemary's Baby." That was bad enough in and of itself, but for some reason he had decided to drop acid beforehand. He had nightmares about it for years. So he decides to become an OB/GYN. Go figure.)
Luckily, Daniel, who had kept in contact with the Unas, rushed in and explained the situation to Graber. Fortunately, the mother didn't speak English, so Daniel told her Graber had been doing a ceremonial song and dance of joy. She beamed with pride.
Graber had been terribly embarrassed and had sworn Daniel to secrecy; but Daniel crossed his fingers behind his back and told the rest of SG-1 that night. Teal'c had laughed so hard he'd hyperventilated.
And Graber and Daniel both were STILL trying to figure that baby out.
He considered Sam's pregnancy as he headed for Hammond's office; it was a higher-risk pregnancy, considering her age, the things she'd been through physically over the past several years, and the tremendous level of stress she was always under.
Yep, definitely time to send her home.
He knocked on Hammond's door.
Jack sat by her bed, so worried he felt like he was going to puke. She looked awful; pale, circles under her eyes. And thin; he wondered if she was losing weight and not telling him.
God, if anything happened to her, or to the baby . . . he shuddered.
She stirred, opening her eyes and blinking blearily. Happy face, happy face, he told himself.
"Sam?" he said softly, taking her hand.
"Jack."
"That's me." He brought her hand to his lips.
She smiled. "You're freaking out, aren't you?"
"What, me? Freak out? No, no way." He plastered on a big fake smile.
She snorted. "Well, I did, until Graber explained that everything was fine."
"Why didn't you call me?" he said, somewhat reproachfully.
"I didn't want you to freak out unless there was something to freak out about. Guess that plan didn't work."
"Sam, if anything like this happens again, TELL ME! Please!"
"Yes, I swear I will." She rolled over as far as the IV would let her. "Man, I feel a lot better. Wonder if I could lug this thing around with me everywhere I go."
"You're taking leave," he ordered.
She nodded.
He blinked, shocked.
"You're not gonna fight? Talk about how you're too busy to take leave?"
She looked at him. "Jack, I was so scared this morning . . . I'm not taking any risks."
There was still a shadow of fear there, behind her eyes. He was sure she could see its echo in his own.
He bent over her, kissing her. He moved his mouth to her ear. "It'll be all right. I swear, everything's gonna be fine."
"You can't promise me that."
"I just did."
He sat back and she smiled, but the fear still lingered.
Ten minutes later Hammond barreled into the infirmary, followed by Graber, Daniel, Teal'c, Siler, Lin, and, for some reason, Walter.
Sam laughed. "Is this the Puke Patrol or the Force Sam To Take Leave Posse?"
Jack stared. "How'd you know about the Puke Patrol?"
"Oh, I have my sources."
Jack glared at Siler, who pretended not to notice.
"Colonel, I'm ordering you to take leave . . ."
"Yes, sir."
"And I don't want any arguments . . ."
"Yes, sir."
"Lin and Siler can handle things . . ."
"Yes, sir."
"So there's no reason for you not to go home and . . . did you just say yes, sir?"
"Yes, sir."
Hammond was confused for a moment. He'd been prepared for battle, not surrender.
"Aherm, well, very good then. You can come back when Graber clears you."
"Yes, sir."
"Fine." He leaned over her bed. "You've got to take care of yourself, Colonel. I'm glad to hear everything's okay."
"Yes, sir. Thank you." She smiled, then reached up to hug him.
"Told you, sir. Touchy-feely," said Jack, grinning.
"Harrumph. Back to work." Hammond marched out of the infirmary, blushing.
Jack turned to Sam. "You've got to quit doing that, you're embarrassing him."
"I know." She didn't sound like she cared very much.
She looked at everyone else. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Now, everyone out of here so I can get dressed and go home."
They all filed out except for Daniel and Teal'c.
"Sam . . ."
"I'm okay, Daniel. I'll take care of myself."
"Is there anything that you require, Col. O'Neill?"
She and Jack both started. Still sounded weird.
"No, Teal'c, thank you, though."
"All right, but promise to call if you need anything," Daniel said.
"I swear."
"Can we come by and see you later this week? Bring some deviled eggs? All mustard."
She snorted. "Sure."
They left the infirmary and Graber unhooked the IV and brought her clothes.
"Colonel, give me a call every day, let me know how you're feeling," he said.
"Will do."
He returned to his office.
"I'm driving you home."
"Oh, no, you're not, General. You've got things to do."
"I'm driving you home."
"Jack . . ."
"I'm driving you home."
"Fine. Drive me home. But don't hold me responsible for the consequences."
"What?"
"Grrrrrrrrrrrr."
"Eeeek! But is that a good idea, with everything going on?"
"Graber said it was fine, just take it easy."
"You don't take things easy. Not that I mind, you understand." He leered.
She grinned. "There are other types of . . . fun."
His brow furrowed.
"Oral fun."
"Oh! Yes, indeed, lots of oral fun to be had."
"Grrrrrrrrrr."
She got up the next morning when Jack did, out of habit. She sat on the couch and flipped through channels while he puttered around getting ready for work.
"All right, off to fight the bad guys," he said, grabbing his keys.
She stood up and hugged him fiercely. "You be careful."
He wrapped his arms around her. "I will. You take it easy."
"I will."
He kissed her, then pulled back to look at her. "Hey. You haven't puked all morning."
Her eyes widened. "I haven't, have I?"
"How do you feel?"
She took a moment to assess. "I feel . . . fine. Pretty good, actually."
"Don't tell me the minute you decide to take leave the morning sickness goes away."
"Well, I'm not gonna hold my breath. Call me in a few hours and if I'm still not puking, maybe we'll celebrate."
"How?"
"Fried chicken."
His eyebrows rose. "That sounds good to you?"
"Yes. Oh, my God, now I'm STARVING."
He smiled. "Eat! Eat all you want! Pack on that baby weight! Big as a whale!"
"Yes, sir!" Oh, boy, she thought. Real food!
Two days later and still no puking. No puking, but a LOT of eating. She and Jack had gone out that first night for fried chicken, which she ate a ton of. What she didn't tell him was that she'd eaten an entire bucket of chicken earlier that day. And a small frozen pizza. Well, okay, THREE small frozen pizzas, but she reasoned she was making up for lost time.
She decided to put her down time to good use; buying books about babies ("Having A Baby For Dummies"), buying videos about babies, and buying baby clothes in greens and yellows and purples.
"Don't you want to wait until we know if we need pink or blue?"
"Oh, no. We don't want to know."
"We don't?"
"No, we want it to be a surprise."
"We do?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm glad we came to that decision without me even knowing."
"Me, too."
She also spent a lot of time house hunting with Doris, Jack's real estate agent neighbor. His house had already sold, they were just waiting to close. There'd been a couple of promising bids for Sam's. Now they just needed to find somewhere to live.
They weren't picky; just particular.
"No subdivisions or additions."
"Big backyard."
"Four bedrooms."
"Four?"
"You never know." Leer.
"Two bathrooms."
"Huge kitchen."
"Fireplace. Make that fireplaces. Plural."
"Pool?"
"Yeah!"
"Big living room."
"An office."
"An office?"
"For you."
"I don't want an office. I've got an office at work."
"Call it a study, then."
"That's the LAST thing I'd want to call it."
"Fine, call it whatever you want, but you need a room to put all your Simpsons crap and your PS2 and X-Box."
"It's not CRAP, it's MEMORABILIA."
"I stand corrected."
"How about I call it 'Jack's Rockin' Rumpus Room?'"
"Fine, just don't call it that in public."
Jack came home early one day, having just returned from off-world. He collapsed on the couch, groaning.
"What's up?" Sam asked, eating a frozen pizza.
"Lin and Daniel."
"What about 'em?"
"They're at each other's throats ALL THE TIME."
"Really? Why?"
"Lin thinks she knows more than Daniel."
"Oh. Been there, done that."
"Daniel thinks he knows more than Lin."
"And?"
"They're very LOUD in their disagreements. It's like I've given weapons to five-year-olds."
"Daniel yells? That doesn't sound like Daniel."
"She provokes him constantly."
"Lin yells?"
"He provokes back."
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh."
He looked at her. "What does that mean?"
She ignored the question. "Tell me, does Daniel do anything different when you're off-world?"
"Besides scream all the time? No."
"Doesn't do anything like, say, run around in just his t-shirt? Flexing?"
He stared at her. "You're kidding."
Her eyes twinkled. "Nope. I think they've both got it bad."
"Then why all the screaming?"
"Adult equivalent of pulling ponytails. Wonder if either of 'em realizes it, yet."
"Well, I hope they realize it soon. Teal'c and I are ready to start our own team."
"They'll figure it out. By the way, I bought a house."
He stared.