The shrill call of the telephone woke him out of the soundest sleep he'd had in months, and as he groped blindly for the handset, he cursed whoever was calling.
"O'Neill."
"Good morning, General."
He thought for a moment, as his brain caught up with his actions. "Walter?"
"Ah, yes, sir. I was calling to remind you of your appointment at 0930 with General McPherson."
"Why?"
There was a pause, before Sergeant Davis spoke again. "It's 0930 now, sir."
Sure enough, a quick glance at his bedside clock confirmed Walter's statement. "Damn! I must have slept through my alarm. Give the general my apologies, and tell him I'll be there in thirty minutes." Jack was already up and pulling out his clothes as he spoke. He gave one last order before slamming down the receiver. "Give him some doughnuts!"
What the hell was going on with him? Tiredness was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous. At least his headache seemed to be gone.
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It snuck up on him, ever so slowly, as the day progressed. At first it was just an impression, the light slightly brighter near some people, easily explained by the sort of small power fluctuations that often occurred under the mountain, but when he finally asked Siler if there was a problem with the lighting he got a confused look, and then spent five minutes trying to explain why he'd asked without giving away anything.
After that, with his headache flaring at odd moments, he reluctantly turned his steps toward the infirmary. He might ignore wounds where possible in a combat situation, but this was different. He had to be mentally alert to do his job as commander of the SGC and he wasn't going to jeopardize lives because he refused to be treated for something as simple as a headache. Perhaps it was his eyes that were the problem. He'd been constantly surprised, if pleasantly, that his eyesight seemed to be as good as it was when he was younger. He put it down to the result of repeated visits to a sarcophagus and just wished he didn't have Ba'al to thank for it.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of hurrying footsteps, and turned to find Daniel pursuing him up the corridor.
It was right then that his eyes chose to really act up, the bright almost purple light flaring up from around his friend's body at the same time as the pain lurking at the back of his skull chose to jump out and attack with a vengeance, the sudden sharp stabs making him stagger slightly.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Daniel's hand reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back onto an even keel.
"I've got one hell of a headache, and before you suggest it, I was heading for the infirmary just now." He pulled himself from Daniel's grip. "I'm okay, thanks."
But he wasn't. He knew it, and going by the expression on the other man's face, Daniel knew it too.
Which explained why he trailed along, subtly guiding Jack as they made their way slowly through the base.
By the time they walked into the infirmary, Jack felt like his head was about to explode, and he virtually had his eyes shut, blocking out the blinding light. He didn't even bother speaking, just walked in and straight to a chair, giving a heartfelt sigh as he sat. For a moment Daniel's hand pressed on his shoulder, then the doctor arrived, his voice showing his concern.
"General?"
Jack managed one brief muttered word, "Headache," before he bent over, holding his head and waited for it to fall off.
"I'd say it was more than a headache, sir."
"Ya think!" He swallowed down bile and kept his eyes resolutely closed. He heard quiet voices – the doctor and Daniel, then his friend's as he bent closer.
"Um....Jack...are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want, but I think the doc wants me to go...less stress and all..."
He opened one eye, wincing. "It's just a headache. I'll be fine."
Daniel's departure heralded the beginning of a barrage of tests, all seemingly designed to make his headache, and he refused to call it a migraine, worse. Surprisingly enough, his vision began to clear despite a penlight shining in his eyes, and, after swallowing down the pills he was handed, the throbbing pain lessened remarkably.
With strict orders to rest in his quarters, he was soon lying in the dark, his forearm over his eyes, and hoping this wasn't a sign of things to come. The doctor had suggested stress as a cause of migraines, but he never got migraines and didn't intend to start now. A quick check of his eyes had turned up nothing, but he was booked in for a full examination with a specialist tomorrow morning.
It wasn't long before he was sound asleep.
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A knock on his door woke him, and he sat up, pleased to find the headache completely gone. Those pills and a few hours sleep seemed to have done the trick again.
"Come."
The door opened to admit a concerned Daniel Jackson.
"Hey, Jack. Sam told me you had another migraine."
"I keep telling everyone – it isn't a migraine!" His annoyance set his teeth on edge and his head thumping once more. "Listen, Daniel, I'm going to go home. I don't seem to be able to get any peace here." Jack knew he was being short tempered but already the light from the corridor behind the silhouetted figure of the other man was sending him very strong warning signals.
Daniel raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Okay, Jack, okay. Do you want me to drive you?"
Jack raised a weary hand to the bridge of his nose, just wishing he was somewhere dark and quiet, where there was no one talking at him. He made himself speak slowly and calmly. "No thanks, Daniel. I appreciate the offer, but I'll get a driver – I know you've got a mission to prepare for early tomorrow morning."
"If you're sure?"
"I am. Don't worry. I just need a good night's sleep."
And a gag, was his ungrateful thought as his friend followed him up the corridor. By the time he was in his car, he was wishing not only that he was dead, but that the archeologist was too.
He slumped down in the back seat and prayed he'd make it home before he threw up.
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He did.
Just.
Then he spent a very unhappy ten minutes with a mop, cleaning it off the kitchen floor.
The unpleasant task completed, Jack had a quick shower and fell into bed.
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