Familiar voices floated around him as Jack slowly opened his eyes to look around. He was a bit surprised that it wasn't the familiar drab infirmary ceiling looming above when his eyes finally came into focus. Was he dreaming again?
Janet Fraiser's chuckle was music to his ears. "No, Colonel, it's no dream. You're still on M7C 332, but we're working on a way to get you back home soon," she promised.
"Crap! I said that out loud again, didn't I?" She nodded and laughed again as he winced, but he paid her no mind. "Gonna have to work on that," he muttered.
"You do that, sir," she replied, still chuckling as she patted his arm.
The moment passed, and she immediately turned serious, studying him for any sign of discomfort. "Do you feel up to a visitor, Colonel?"
He warily looked back at her. "Depends. Who?"
Her expression remained serious as she continued to observe him. "Sam has asked to see you as soon as you wake up."
He sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, go ahead and send her in. We really should talk."
O'Neill decided that he did not want to be flat on his back for the coming conversation, so he forced himself to a sitting position. This time the room stayed steady, but he didn't attempt to stand, knowing that he didn't yet have the strength, and that it would only serve to piss Fraiser off. He winced at the IV lines now connected to his arm, but was relieved to find he had no urge to bite anyone.
"Colonel!" He started at the sound of the tiny doctor's cry, but was determined to remain upright for the coming visitor.
He turned his most effective, puppy-dog-eyes look on Janet while pleading his case. "Come on, Doc. This isn't the kind of conversation I want to have lying down. I'll stay sitting right here, I promise."
She relented just as Sam Carter appeared in the doorway. "All right, Colonel, but only for a short while. As soon as you're finished talking, you're to lie back down and rest!"
The major's heart jumped at the implications of his words, but she determinedly strode into the room. She'd been preparing herself to face the music for several hours now while waiting for him to regain consciousness, after all. She pasted a cheery smile on her face and went over to greet him. "Colonel, you're looking much better."
He scowled, not looking her in the eye, and her heart sank. So much for a pleasant beginning, she lamented.
"Doc, do you mind? I'd like a word with Carter in private," he demanded.
Sam's knees went weak with relief as she realized his ire was not directed at her, but at the diminutive doctor. She turned to Janet and nodded her agreement.
Fraiser pursed her lips and stared at her patient. After a lengthy assessment, she folded her arms and turned her gaze to the female member of SG-1. "Fine, but if he makes a move that can in any way, shape, or form be construed as an attempt to stand, I'm ordering you to do whatever it takes to get him back into that bed--including sitting on him if necessary!"
Janet realized too late what she'd said as both Carter and O'Neill stared at her with mouths agape. A flush of embarrassment spread over her face as she quickly backed to the door. "I-I'll just be. . ." she stammered, as she reached her destination and scurried off down the hallway.
Now alone, the two officers continued to stare after the departed doctor in shock. Sam slowly turned to face her CO with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.
Jack abruptly closed his mouth and was about to pat the bed to invite her to sit next to him when he thought better of it. His hand quickly detoured, making an exaggerated show of carefully straightening his IV tubing before finally turning his attention to his visitor. "So. . ."
"So," she repeated.
He blew out the breath he'd been holding and tried again. "So, Doc said something about a delay in going back. What's that all about? The NID chomping at the bit to get their hands on me?" He braced himself for news of his impending court-martial, but couldn't bring himself to specifically ask about it.
Carter smiled, much to his great surprise. "Daniel's working on it now, sir. The Sruthangiolla are apparently very reluctant to let you leave." She shrugged.
Jack did a double-take, stunned by her explanation. That had been the very last thing he'd expected her to say. "Excuse me?"
She swallowed hard. "Well, the brethren are, um, totally refusing to allow you to leave. At least, not until you've cured them. Sir."
His eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could possibly go. "Me? Cure them? Why on earth would they think I can cure them?"
She quickly explained how the technology would only respond to one of the Ancients, and how Leanansidhe's host had been the last surviving scientist.
Highly confused, O'Neill didn't understand the connection. "So? And? Therefore? What does any of that have to do with me? I'm not an Ancient--I can't make that thing work anymore than you can!"
Carter sighed. "Actually, sir, apparently you can. And you did," she added.
"But I'm not an Ancient," he protested. "There must be some mistake!"
She shook her head. "I saw it myself, sir. You may not be an Ancient, but whatever it is in your genetic makeup that makes you 'advanced' must be close enough to allow you to activate the device."
"But-but I'm not an Ancient," he protested feebly. A sudden frown swept over his handsome features as his mind finally processed the first part of her statement. "Hey! What do you mean, you saw it? When?"
She tilted her head and looked for any signs that he was toying with her. Finding none, she explained. "Right after we escaped the mob and Maiti's father placed you on the platform? You had briefly regained consciousness and were drifting off again. Just before I called the SCG to send the medical team."
At his nod, she continued. "Your hand slipped off the platform and landed on the control panel. The device activated and cured you. I saw it happen."
His eyes widened. "Wait a minute! I'm cured? Are you sure?"
She smiled broadly. "Yes, sir, positive. Janet ran some tests as soon as she arrived. Your blood is totally clear of the nanites."
He looked at her doubtfully. "That's what they said before. You sure they're not just invisible or something?"
She shook her head. "I'm sure. I was able to read through some of the notes left here by the scientists. The nanobots are not released into the bloodstream until they've reached a point of critical mass. Once that happens, you're a vampire, and they can be detected in blood samples. Janet agrees. She did find them in your blood after the shooting at the SGC."
He sat in thoughtful contemplation, a companionable silence falling between them.
"Okay, so we get those folks on the rack, I hit the bug-zapper switch, everybody's cured, then we go home. What's the big deal?"
"It's not quite that simple, sir. The Sruthangiolla will die out completely within a couple of weeks if we can't find a cure for the disease that the Ancients originally came here to study. If we deactivate their nanobots before that, we're sentencing them to certain death."
O'Neill's eyes again went wide. "You mean they want me to stay here until someone finds them a cure? Oh, that is so not gonna happen!"
Carter winced. "Um, not exactly, sir. They want you to stay until you find them a cure."
"What?" His reaction was every bit the explosion she'd expected.
"Daniel is out there right now trying to convince them that you aren't a scientist, and that the cure will need to be left to the Tok'ra or the Asgard. We're promising regular shipments of blood to keep them going until the cure is found, though--hopefully that will be enough, and we'll all be free to leave." A sad look fell across her face at the thought of returning home, where she would have to face the consequences of her actions.
He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, no more excited about the prospect of facing the music than his 2IC. "Right. Home," he quipped unenthusiastically.
She immediately picked up on his hesitation and guessed as to the cause. "Sir, you should know that General Hammond has promised that you won't be facing any charges for the things you did under the influence of alien technology."
He stared at her in disbelief. "Carter, I disobeyed a ton of direct orders, took over the Control Room and the Gate, physically attacked over a dozen members of the SGC--yourself included--and went AWOL. He can't just ignore all that!"
She countered his look with a stern one of her own. "You were under the influence of alien technology, sir. Can you honestly tell me that you would have done any of that had you not been infected with the nanobots?"
His scowl was answer enough, but he did grudgingly admit the truth. "Well, no." He sighed loudly, unwilling to totally admit defeat. "There should be consequences," he insisted.
Rather than the irritation or anger that he expected, she looked hurt. "So, you're saying that after the incident in the locker room after our first visit to the Land of Light, I should have been punished."
"What? No! Of course not! You weren't yourself, Carter. You were under the influence. . ." He stopped abruptly, as realization of what he was about to say set in.
He dropped his chin to his chest and wearily scrubbed a hand across his face. He heaved a sigh of defeat before meeting her smug-looking gaze. "Fine, you win. But I should at least apologize." His face took on a pinched expression, looking as if he'd actually eaten the slimy iced spinach that Fraiser's nurses had attempted to foist on him during his stint in quarantine.
"So, Major, about my earlier behavior. . .I wasn't myself, but. . ."
"Sir, I don't even remember your earlier behavior," she interrupted.
"You don't?" He looked at her with a completely perplexed visage.
"Nope, don't remember a thing," she clarified.
"Does this conversation seem vaguely familiar to you?" he asked, totally veering off the topic.
She thought it over a moment before replying. "Um, yeah. It does have a decidedly deja vu feeling to it," she agreed.
"So does this mean we can just skip the rest of it?" he pleaded hopefully.
She thought again before answering. "Well, there is one part I don't think we should omit." She had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at his crestfallen expression.
"Which part is that?" The look on his face was now guarded and wary.
"Well, I really should ask you how your wounds are healing," she explained.
"Wounds?" His visage told her that he really didn't know what she was talking about.
"You were shot back at the base."
"Oh, that. It was nothing. The holes were all but healed by the time I went through the Gate. There's not even a scar left to show for it."
"That's good news, sir. I was concerned." She smiled warmly.
"You were?"
"Of course, sir."
He waited for her to say more, but to his great disappointment, she didn't. "Isn't this where you say something about tank tops?" he prodded.
She shot him a reproachful look. "Sir! I would have thought you'd know me better than that after all this time!"
Before he could apologize or respond, Janet Fraiser breezed back into the room. "Okay, visitor's hours are now over. You need to get some rest, Colonel."
Sam had already noticed the tiredness in his eyes and quickly retreated to the exit before he could protest. Once there, she turned back around and smiled. "Sir? Just for the record? I prefer men shirtless over in tank tops."
He stared openmouthed in disbelief, unable to even form a coherent response, while the doctor looked completely confused.
Carter's smile broadened, her eyes dancing mischievously. She winked at him and then disappeared through the doorway.
Ignoring Fraiser's presence, he smiled and shook his head as he lay back down. His eyes were closing as soon as his back hit the mattress, his mind on one thing.
Carter was so going to pay for that one!
-tbc-