Too Strong Part 1 of 11
Disclaimer: See Original Post
Brigadier General Jack O'Neill pulled his truck into his parking space outside Cheyenne Mountain in the wee hours of the morning, well before sane people even entertained thoughts of getting out of their warm beds or turning on their coffee makers. But here he was, again. He had a report due to Hammond by 1300 hours, and after the computer glitch the day before, he was behind.
Still more asleep than awake, he took his coffee from the plastic holder on his dash and stepped out of the truck. The guard at the first checkpoint greeted him with a smile and a 'good morning', which Jack did his best to return, but the caffeine just hadn't kicked in and to speak was more than he was capable of quite yet.
He sipped from the hot brew in the first elevator, letting the steam and aroma seep through the tiny holes in the top of the cup to reach his nose. It chiseled away at the fog. Not a lot, but some.
Check point number two, the guard looked as tired as he felt. They nodded sympathetically at each other before Jack boarded the second elevator that would take him past the NORAD levels to the SGC. As the car descended to sub level 27, he leaned into the wall and let his head rest back, the leather of his jacket squeaking with his movement.
Please let this be a quiet day. No apocalyptic revelations. No freaky malfunctions. No mess hall screw ups. Just . . .
The elevator bumped to a stop and the doors opened to reveal Walter standing in the wait, his round face wrinkled in tight concern.
So much for that . . .
"Walter, it is 0415. What could have possibly gone wrong already?"
"Colonel Carter came in hot twelve minutes ago with SG's 3 and 5 under heavy Kull Warrior fire."
"Wounded?"
"Four. They're in the infirmary now."
Jack stepped back into the elevator and Walter followed, the doors closing behind him as Jack jabbed 21 with his thumb. The coffee that had been his morning nectar moments before now burned and churned in his gut. The elevator moved excruciatingly slow now.
"Dead?" he finally asked.
"One, sir."
"Who?" Please . . .
"Lieutenant McElvoy of SG-5, Sir. Major Riggs of SG-5 and Lieutenant Tannen of SG-3 are both seriously injured. Major Patenski and Colonel Carter sustained less severe injuries."
Jack carefully schooled his expression to reveal nothing, but he slipped his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and fisted his fingers until his knuckles ached. The elevator finally bumped to a halt and the doors opened. Jack managed to keep himself in check and not leap the jamb as he handing his coffee off to Walter.
The infirmary was a frenzy of activity as Dr. Brightman and several of her staff worked feverishly on the bloody and still forms of Riggs and Tannen. The masks on the staff's faces muffled their voices, and their commands barely carried over the din of beeping machinery and clashing equipment.
Jack stood for several minutes, holding his breath as he watched the doctor work. He hated this . . . waiting and wondering if everyone would come out in one piece. And if not in one piece, at least alive. He wanted to demand their status, but knew asking questions right now would just put him in the way.
"Carter . . ."
"This way, Sir," Walter said, walking towards a quieter corner of the infirmary away from the working doctor.
Patenski was either asleep or unconscious on one of the beds as a nurse injected his IV with a syringe. Another nurse stepped around the foot of his bed and yanked away the white curtain that separated his bed from the next. Jack's heart clenched in his chest as he caught sight of Sam easing the hem of a clean shirt over the waist of her BDU's.
Her hair was mussed, and soot smudged her cheek. A large white bandaged wrapped her forearm, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her shirt. Another bandage, already streaked pink from the wound beneath, ran along her brow line partially hidden by her hair.
"Get me a status report as soon as you can," Jack said in a low voice, and Walter nodded, disappearing in the opposite direction.
Sam looked up and their gazes connected. Jack drew a slow breath in through his nose, squaring his shoulders, and walked to her.
"Carter . . . " he said with a lilt as he reached her. "What did I say about getting shot at while off world?"
She shifted on the bed edge, her movements stiff and hesitant. "Someone forgot to send your memo to the enemy, Sir."
Jack attempted a smile and pushed his hands deeper into his jeans pockets. He hitched his chin in her direction. "You okay?"
Sam nodded and inched her feet towards the ground. Jack quickly yanked his hands from his pockets and helped her down. He put his arm around her waist and supported her hand with the other as she stood. She winced, and quickly buried the cringe behind an expressionless façade.
Good soldier, right?
"I see the obvious. What do I not see?"
Sam straightened with a slow release of air, but she didn't let go of his hand and he didn't move his arm. "Nothing bad."
"Carter. . ."
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I bruised my right leg from knee to hip falling on the Gate stairs, and almost cracked a rib or two. That's all. Nothing compared to everyone else."
He watched her for a moment, and saw behind her eyes the same warring emotions he had dealt with for years. The guilt of being in command when things go in the crapper, especially when someone dies. Nine times out of ten, there was nothing you could do about it but that doesn't make the weight on your shoulders any lighter.
Jack ran his hand up her back and down again before stepping away and resuming his fist-in-pocket pose again. A stance more easily maneuvered in BDU's, but since he hadn't exactly gotten a chance to change yet . . .
"What happened?"
Sam shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning down. "I'm not sure, Sir. I'm trying to get it all clear in my head, but the pounding isn't helping."
"Okay. Go get cleaned up. Get some chow and some rest. Well talk later."
Sam watched Jack pause at the door of the infirmary and talk with Walter and Doctor Brightman. She looked to the now quiet forms of her men. They all made it – except for McElvoy.
Thank God
She tried to remember what happened. They were investigating the planet, seeking a possible encampment of rebel Jaffa. Sam remembered cresting a hill and seeing the tents in the valley below. A tingling pain slithered up her spine and spread over the back of her skull like acid in her veins, and Sam closed her eyes against it. Then the smell of burning flesh and the sound of screaming men filled her memories. They were running back to the Gate. Kull warriors pursued them through the trees. Sam dragged Tannen beside her . . .
His fault . . . He knew . . .
The voice whispered like the Serpent in the Garden of Eden, and Sam's eyes snapped open again. She searched the room, finding Jack still near the door. He looked up and their gazes held, a small reassuring smile tipped one corner of his lips.
The burn eased and the hiss silenced. Sam swallowed against the dry desert in her throat and headed for the showers.
