Janet Fraiser tossed the chart onto the bedside table and stood with her hands on her hips as she glared at the man in the bed. Her entire staff was in an uproar and threatening mutiny if something wasn't done, and done quickly at that. She mentally counted to ten, then spoke with as calm a voice as she could muster. "Is there a problem, Colonel?"
The scowl that had been on his face when she'd walked in quickly changed to a full-on glower--one directed solely at her. "Problem? Why would there be a problem? I've got people waiting on me hand and foot, and the cuisine. . ." He paused to glance at food-splattered wall, at the bottom of which lay the remains of his lunch tray. "The cuisine is to just die for."
Janet sighed. "Colonel, we've been over this. The diet I've ordered will help your body recover more quickly. I thought you agreed not to fight me on this?"
"For a few days," he reminded her. "It's been a week." His gaze again slid briefly to the mess staining the wall. "And that agreement never included freezing cold, slimy, cooked spinach!"
She pursed her lips and frowned, but he jumped in before she could voice her doubt. "Go ahead, check for yourself," he challenged.
She rounded the bed and walked over to the ruined tray, then bent to pick it up. Her eyes widened in surprise at the distinct chill of the plate, and she turned back to him. Mutiny had apparently now gone beyond the threatening stage. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll see that this doesn't happen again." Plate still in hand, she moved back toward the bed. "I'll have a new tray sent up right away. How about a compromise? Maybe a salad of fresh greens with your favorite dressing instead of the spinach?"
He thought it over and then shot her another challenging look. "Only if that includes a real cheeseburger--medium rare, with everything--instead of that shoe leather they're trying to pass off as meat."
She paused to consider the proposition, then upped the ante. "Alright, if you agree to eat all of your dinner--and without complaining, too." When his eyes drifted suspiciously back to his lunch on the floor, she was quick to reassure him. "No more cooked spinach or cold food, I promise."
"Fine." Despite her concession, the man sounded anything but happy about the arrangement.
She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing at him, looking for all the world like a pouting, sulky little boy rather than the senior air force officer he was. She managed to keep her demeanor professional as she prepared to leave. "Anything else?"
"You can let me out of here." He ground out, despite having just had the same conversation only a few hours earlier.
"Sir, we've already. . ."
He interrupted immediately. "Look, you said the blood tests have all been normal. I feel fine. I don't need to be here anymore!"
"And I say you do need to be here! We need to keep up the blood tests for another week minimum, and I want you here under observation for at least a few more days. Please, just hang in there a little while longer."
"Ha, you admit it! The only reason you're keeping me here is because of that damn vampire-nanobot thing--which your tests all say I don't have! I'm telling you, if you don't let me out of here, I'm so gonna totally lose it!"
"You could play some Play Station for awhile," she helpfully suggested. "Sam sent all your favorite games down."
He glared at her even harder, then glanced down at his sling-encased left arm. "Have you ever tried to play any of those mostly one-handed?" Her guilt was plain to see when he brought that little detail to her attention, and he was quick to pounce. "Come on, I want to watch television. I want to sleep in real bed with a real mattress--and I want to be able to eat real food of my own choosing for a change!"
"You have a television right over there, sir. And Daniel even brought your Simpsons DVDs in for you."
"I've already watched all of my Simpsons collection--three times. Each! But hey, no sweat. I hear Teal'c is bringing his Star Wars collection by later to watch with me. Again. And I swear to God, I'm not gonna be responsible for what happens if I have to watch even one of those damn movies another time!"
At the mention of yet another Star Wars marathon, Janet winced. She couldn't help it. Even the most vocal among her mutinous staff had commented on enduring the Jaffa's seemingly endless movie marathons--and they didn't even have to be in the room for the duration. She sighed loudly, because as much as she wanted to, the doctor couldn't deny there was some truth in her patient's accusation and validity to his complaints. In the week since his return, the colonel's blood tests had shown no sign of nanobots whatsoever. Were it not for the quarantine, she would have released him long ago. However, instinct was telling her that she should keep him right where he was--unhappy or not--despite those facts.
He seemed to sense her weakening resolve. "I'll stay on base."
"Sir. . ."
"I'll stay in my quarters on base," he pleaded. "At least I could watch ESPN."
She paused to consider the request. She had to admit it, his wounds were healing nicely. Alone, they certainly didn't merit confinement in the infirmary. And he could just as easily be monitored from his quarters where he'd be far more comfortable. Still, there was that indefinable something that was making her hesitate.
Before she could answer, he tried one last desperate plea. "I swear, I'll come straight back if I feel even the slightest urge to bite someone!" He frowned slightly as he paused to consider what he'd said. "Except for Daniel, maybe. And Carter. But only if she's with Daniel, and they start rambling on about going back to '332 and all that vampire-nanite crap again." His focus had turned inward as he qualified his promise. Satisfied with his answer, he nodded in approval. "Yeah."
She had to cough to stifle the laugh that really, really wanted to escape as he turned to expectantly regard her. When she recovered her composure, she found herself conceding to his request. "Alright, alright. I'll see if I can get you a VIP room--but you will be confined to quarters until further notice, and I want you back here immediately if you feel even the slightest bit off. And if I hear so much as a single rumor that you've been spotted elsewhere or you're not there when it's time to draw more blood, I'll have you hauled back here so fast your head will spin! Furthermore, you'll eat a healthy diet and stop harassing my staff," she added.
He immediately nodded his agreement. "Stay in the room, come back if I start feeling off, only healthy junk to eat, go a little easier on your bloodsuckers. Got it."
"Colonel," she warned.
He huffed in displeasure and glared back at her. "Oh, alright, fine! I'll stop hassling your little bloodsuckers. Happy now?"
She nodded in approval and picked up the chart she'd dropped on his table. "I'll get that meal ordered and have a VIP suite set up. We'll get you transferred after you eat."
She then made her exit, slowing just outside the door to listen. As expected, she could hear him muttering. "Power-tripping, needle-happy, Nazi tyrant."
She couldn't help but smile as she tendered her own parting shot. "I heard that," she loudly called back.
"D'oh!"
Finally settled into his new quarters, Jack O'Neill turned off the television in disgust. The game he'd so looked forward to watching was a lopsided affair and failed to hold his interest. He'd left it on to catch a report on that evening's NHL games, which revealed that the Wild had lost to Anaheim by giving up five goals in the third period. Nobody lost to Anaheim, for crying out loud!
He carelessly tossed the remote onto the table and stood. The colonel gingerly stretched his stiff muscles as far as his injuries would allow while he scanned the room for something interesting to do. Finding nothing, he went on the prowl, picking up and then discarding anything and everything within reach. Frustration continued to build until his breaking point was reached, whereupon he picked up the nearly full pitcher of water and hurled it across the room with his good arm. His satisfied smirk at the sound of it shattering against the wall quickly wilted. "Good one, O'Neill. Now you've got a mess to clean and a broken pitcher to explain." With a deep sigh, he went to retrieve some towels and begin cleanup.
When he exited the bathroom with the cloths in hand, he pulled up short, startled to find his 2IC standing wide-eyed in the open door. "You need something, Carter?" Not waiting for an answer, he briskly walked over to the debris-laden puddle and began to clear up the evidence of his tantrum.
"No, sir. I was just passing by when I heard the noise and thought I'd see if you needed help." He paused only long enough to shoot her a dubious glare which left no doubt he wasn't buying her story, so she quickly rushed on. "Here, let me give you a hand with that."
She dropped to her knees next to him and picked up one of the larger shards of broken glass. He snatched it away none-too-gently and snapped at her again. "Damn it, I'm perfectly capable of cleaning up my own messes, Major! Dismissed!"
Surprised by his sudden objection, she started when he grabbed the sharp fragment and felt it slice into her fingers. Frozen in momentary shock, she held the bleeding digits in front of her and stared. She recovered quickly and searched out his eyes, unsure of what to expect from him.
He wore an equally shocked expression and was staring at her bloody hand, from which small drops were now falling to the floor and mixing with the watery puddle. Horrified, he dropped the pieces of broken glass that he'd gathered and backed away from her, his eyes never leaving her hand. When he eventually bumped into a chair, he finally raised his eyes to meet hers and then promptly fled to the bathroom without another word, slamming the door behind him.
Still a bit stunned by the entire incident, Sam regained enough of her senses to look around for something to stem the bleeding. She grabbed one of the unused towels he'd brought for mopping up the water and wrapped it around her cut fingers before heading over to check on him. She knocked loudly and then called to him. "Sir? Are you all right?" She received no answer, and after several long moments, she tried again. "Colonel? I'm going to go now. Are you going to be okay?" As she'd expected, there was again no answer from the man within. Feeling frustrated and helpless, she looked down at her bleeding hand and then back at the door separating them. Reluctantly, she finally turned and left for the infirmary. Maybe Janet would have better luck getting through to him.
Still holed-up in his bathroom, a badly shaken Jack O'Neill could hear someone sweeping up the broken glass and cleaning up his mess. Relieved it wasn't Fraiser, he ignored the noise and was quickly lost in thought. He knew he'd been edgy and foul-tempered ever since he'd been attacked on that damn planet, but he'd really believed it was due to his circumstances. Attacked by bats and vampires, getting jabbed with needles several times everyday, plus being cooped up underground for way too long was enough to make a saint cranky--and he'd certainly never be mistaken for one of those. But now? Now he wasn't quite so certain, not after what had just happened.
That thought brought the image of Carter's bloody hand freshly to mind, which in turn sent him retching into the toilet. He was horrified that he'd caused her injury, even unintentionally, yes, but he was even more horrified by the feelings he'd experienced at the sight of her blood welling and dripping from those magnificent fingers. He could still feel the urge to reach out and take each one of those splendid digits into his mouth, to taste her life's essence and savor each delectable drop. He could smell it so vividly, even now, calling to him like the sweetest perfume. Repulsed by the feelings, he continued to heave, despite the fact that his stomach was now empty. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. He hadn't wanted to bite her, after all. That had to mean something. He knew he should tell Janet, since he'd promised to tell her if he'd felt the slightest urge to bite anyone, and he still intended to keep that promise. But he hadn't had the urge to bite Carter, so there was nothing to tell, right?
He suddenly felt completely exhausted, so he flushed the mess and moved to the sink to rinse his mouth. After splashing some cold water on his face, he finally exited the room and made his way to the bed on increasingly shaky legs. Feeling comforted by his reasoning, he managed to get his boots and sling off, but didn't bother to change out of the scrubs he was still wearing. He then wearily climbed under the covers, and within moments, he was fast asleep.
A short time later and much to her surprise, that was exactly how an anxious Janet Fraiser found him when she entered his room and switched on a small lamp next to the bed. A quick visual examination revealed a slightly paler than normal complexion and a slight flush to his cheeks. She placed her hand on his forehead, but found it cool to the touch. Next, she checked his pulse, which brought a muttered protest from the patient. "Tired," he mumbled as he made a half-hearted attempt to pull away. The beat was strong and steady, well within the normal range. She hated to disturb him, but that niggling little voice was telling her something was definitely not right with SG-1's leader. "Hey, there. I heard you had a little problem earlier." She kept her tone soft and soothing, hoping to draw him out before he woke enough to resist.
He blinked sleepily at her, unable to keep his eyes open. "I'll tell her 'm sorry later," he offered, slurring the words. Before she could reply, his breathing had again evened out and he was back asleep. While his exhaustion concerned her, she did have to admit that he'd had a rather active day with the room change, and he was still recovering.
Despite her nagging worry, she reluctantly concluded that Carter had likely over-reacted and reached for the lamp switch. "I'm sure Sam will appreciate that, sir. Sleep well," she softly encouraged as she clicked off the light.
She paused in the doorway to look back at his sleeping form and frowned. All seemed absolutely normal with him, but still the feeling that something was not right plagued her. With a sigh, she wearily dropped her chin to her chest. Maybe she would go have a look at his latest test results just one more time.