Jack came to his senses quickly, as the shot hadn't completely knocked him out. He pretended for a moment though, lying still as he waited for the sounds of retreating footsteps and a closing door. When he was as certain as he could be that the Jaffa were gone he rolled to his side and pulled himself into a kneeling position. It wasn't easy to do with his hands tied tightly behind his back, but fortunately for him at that moment, he had been in this position before countless times. Once on his knees he leaned forward to shake the loosely fitted cloth off of his head.
His sight restored he glanced about to make a quick assessment of the room. He had gathered the gist of Carter's struggles, and victory, from his blind witnessing of Olorun's concessions. The tension and exhaustion in Carter's voice spoke volumes of the state she must be in. And yet he was somehow still entirely unprepared for what he saw as his eyes found her, still slumped against the wall.
"Shit!" Climbing to his feet he rushed to her side. Her regulation black t-shirt was hanging open, but it wasn't the sight of the expanse of skin or the black cotton bra that had his attention so riveted. It was the blood, which he prayed wasn't her's as he rushed to her side. The tattered edges of the shirt and her bra were heavy with it, but didn't show it well. But it colored the pale skin of her chest, stomach and right arm with a shade of red that nothing else on earth—or any other planet for that matter—could match in vibrancy. If only because it was the color of life.
Shoving aside the body of Olorun's first prime, which had been disarmed and left for her consideration, Jack tried to get her attention. Her eyes were open but glazed and she didn't acknowledge his presence. He still didn't know exactly what had happened here, but he had a very good imagination.
"Carter!" he barked, leaning his face close to hers. It took a long moment but she met his eyes, the exhaustion in them shaking him to the core.
"I can help you Sam," he promised quietly, wishing he could give her his strength through more than just encouragement. "But you need to help me first. Cut the bonds." He watched the soldier in her reassert itself, as she pushed the pain and exhaustion into the background. That had always amazed him about her. There sometimes seemed there was nothing she couldn't handle, even things no one should ever be asked to handle.
She lifted the bloody knife that was still clutched in her right hand to the twine that bound his wrists as he held them out behind them. The knife was sharp, as any first prime's dagger should be, and he was quickly free.
Immediately upon gaining this relative freedom he checked her for injuries, still worried a great deal of the blood just beginning to dry on her skin was her own. She was still pretty out of it, probably going into shock, and stiffened in fear as he ran his hands over her skin beneath the shirt. It only confirmed his fears.
Resting his right hand on her cheek he guided her to look him in the eyes. He saw no recognition there.
"Sam," he said softly, willing her to come back to him. "It's just me, Jack." Not that she ever called him that, but he wasn't going to refer to himself as "sir."
"Jack…" she whispered, surprising him. Guess there was a first time for everything. If the situation had been less dire he would have teased her about it.
"I'm here now," he said, trying to get her stay with him. Having found no serious wounds on her torso, he kept his right hand on her cheek and felt her limbs for broken bones with his left. "I see you've been taking on the world without me," he joked. It was what he did.
"Shit, sir!" she gasped, as he encountered the broken bones in her left wrist. He knew from experience that nothing got someone's attention like sudden pain, and although he hated being the cause of it he knew he needed her alert.
"I'm going to have to set that, Carter," he said with a grimace, taking his right hand away from her cheek so he could hold her left hand with both of his own. It was a bad break and he didn't want the jagged edges of the bones to cause any more damage. She nodded slowly to herself in acceptance as he looked for something to use as a splint it. He grabbed what a couple of what were probably data crystals, but looked like translucent rulers to him.
"Do you need these?" he questioned, bringing them to her side. She shook her head, no, already understanding what he was going to do as her mind cleared. Sam wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor in a ball and pass out. But that wasn't an option. She had work to do.
"You ready?" he asked, settling himself before her. She took a deep breath. "Yes, sir," she answered with as much strength as she could muster. "Just do it quickly."
He had ripped the sleeves and a bit of bottom off of his t-shirt, and torn the fabric into strips. He placed spread them out on the floor like the rungs of a horizontal ladder, and placed the two crystals on top of them cross-wise. Then he did the part he knew would be the worst. Grasping her wrist on either side of the break he pulled as hard as he could, fighting swelling ligaments and muscle to pull the bones back into place. She couldn't help the cry of agony that escaped her and he didn't blame her. He had been less than cooperative while she had been setting his leg in Antarctica.
The worst part was over now that the bones were back in place, and she was quiet again. He could see the tension in the set of her jaw while silent tears ran down her face. Lowering her forearm to the floor over the crystals, he began to tie the crystals in support from her fingertips about two-thirds of the way to her elbow. It wouldn't keep it completely immobile, but would help.
About halfway through she finally gave in and passed out, and Jack couldn't help but wish she had sooner. They had nothing in the way of painkillers and it was obvious she needed the rest. She was resting awkwardly against the wall behind her so he finished quickly and shifted her so she was lying on her side, then tied the bottom corners of the front of her t-shirt together to preserve as much of her modesty as possible. It covered what mattered.
He assured himself that she was breathing normally and that her pulse was strong and steady before leaving her side to check out the room. In the past fifteen minutes the circumstances of their capture had changed dramatically. Olorun's first prime had died in front of his own Jaffa's eyes, and he had done nothing. In fact, in his desperation for this cure Olorun had given them more than just a knife and privacy. He had given them information, although little of it was good.
The Colonel was now certain that Olorun didn't have a sarcophagus. If he had one than Carter's threat to take her own life would have been meaningless. For that matter, if he had a sarcophagus her own natural death from the illness would not be such an important deadline as he could just bring her back.
Which meant that if she didn't find a way to save herself in the next forty-eight hours she was dead. Permanently. Which was an important qualifier in Jack's mind. And he knew no matter how much he wanted to, there was nothing he could do to find a cure for her. It was ironic really, that she had saved the planet several times but couldn't save herself. Not that she couldn't! But even he had to admit at the moment that it didn't look good.
Walking around the room Jack took in his new surroundings. He was still a prisoner, in a room he couldn't easily get out of, but things were different now. They had a whole lot of technical looking stuff, a knife, and a computer. He could work with this.
When Sam came to it happened quickly. She went to sit up into a more defensible position and cried out as she put weight on the broken wrist, and reopened the gash in her right palm. The Colonel was at her side in an instant.
"Take it easy," he ordered, if such a thing could be made an order.
"How long was I out?" she asked, cradling her left arm in her lap as he examined her right palm.
"Only about an hour," he said as he tore another strip from the bottom of his shirt. If this kept up he was going to be sporting a fashion that he didn't think was appropriate for a man his age. Wrapping it tightly around her hand he staunched the bleeding.
"Can you do this?" he asked, still holding her hand in his. She didn't have to ask him what he meant. She knew.
"I have to," she said, taking her hand back and climbing to her feet. That wasn't technically what he had asked but he let it go. She knew the stakes.
Carter's steps weren't strong, but they were steady as she walked back to the lab table and perched herself on one of the crates. He followed, uncertain if there was anything he could do but lurk over her shoulder. He doubted it, but asked anyway.
"Actually," she began, "there is something you can do." She led him to the computer console and seated him in front of it.
"The biosensors in this room are active," she explained. He really hoped she wasn't going to get technical. "They can sense the nanites inside of me because they are constructed of naquadah, but don't sense any signals being emitted."
"Ok-ay," he drew out, still uncertain as to how he could help her with this.
"This is how you get the computer to control the transmission of a signal," she explained, showing him. "And this is how you control the frequency." It was simpler than he expected.
"I can do that," he said with optimism.
"Of course you can, sir," Sam affirmed. Then she grinned. "The Jaffa that have to use these systems aren't exactly rocket scientists either."
"Hey!" he cried in mock protest. "I take offense at that." But in reality he was glad she was still up to joking. It meant she hadn't given up yet.
Sam didn't respond, just smiled. She knew he was much brighter than he gave himself credit for—and he probably knew she knew—but that didn't mean she couldn't play along.
"I have the computer set up to look for transmissions from the nanites," she explained, continuing. "I've started you in the terahertz range since that is one of the better frequencies for passing through organic tissue. You need to work your way through the frequencies, looking for a responding signal. Only then can I reprogram the nanites, if only to tell them to stop."
"I can do that," he said. "What are you going to do?"
"Take a nap," she said with defeat in her voice. "I haven't really slept since we got here, days ago, and even I can only do so much without coffee. With my head pounding like it is, I couldn't reprogram the clock on my VCR right now." It was a true measure of what this plague was taking out of her that she would even admit that, much less willingly rest.
"I'll wake you if I find anything," he promised as she curled up as comfortably as she could against the wall to his left. "I've got your back."
They were the last words she heard before surrendering to a sleep too deep for dreams.
Please review! And i promise there is some definite ship on the way!