Chapter Seven

Sam sat on a chair beside Jack's bed. Her father, who had decided to stay a few days, sat next to her. Teal'c stood watch over Jack on the other side of the bed. Jack lay, still unconscious, with all sorts of wires and tubes attached to him.

Sam hated seeing him like this. He looked so helpless and vulnerable. She reached over and took his hand. She wiped at the worried tears that had slipped down her cheeks. First Jack and now Daniel, she wasn't sure how much more she could take. She felt weak and vulnerable herself. She hadn't slept well in weeks. She let out a shaky breath.

Jacob patted her thigh. "They'll be alright," he assured her.

"Jacob is correct. Colonel O'Neill and Daniel Jackson have been through worse before," Teal'c told her confidently.

"You—" Jacob started, but Janet, entering the room, interrupted him. Sam and Jacob stood up.

"Daniel's just come out of surgery. We set all his broken bones and managed to remove all of the stone. His arm will be in a sling for a while and he'll be extremely sore, but no permanent damage was done," the doctor reported to her patient's teammates. Sam opened her mouth to say something, but Janet was one step ahead of her. "The anesthetic should wear off in a few hours and then you can go and see him."

The Carters sat down again and Janet moved over to check Jack's vitals. "Let's see if the colonel's ready for something to eat," she said, taking a needle from a tray near by and injecting the contents into his IV.

There was no initial response. Sam watched anxiously. Come on, Jack.

Then he stirred, groaning, and his eyes fluttered open. "Colonel?" Sam asked.

"Sam?" Jack murmured, his voice cracking from lack of use, his brown eyes resting, unfocused, on the ceiling.

"Colonel O'Neill, how are you feeling?" Janet asked, picking up a bowl of soupy white stuff that looked like Cream of Wheat and dipping a spoon into it.

"Doc?" he asked, his face scrunching up in confusion, his eyes not even glancing toward her.

Sam frowned. Why doesn't he look at us?

Janet moved the bowl toward him, to hold it under the spoon as she fed him. Jack didn't react, but his hands moved under the blanket in an odd way before he brought them up to touch the edge.

"Where am I?" He pulled his hands the rest of the way out and flailed them over the blanket toward the edges of the bed as if he was searching for something. "You're in the infirmary," Janet told him slowly, as if speaking to a child, confusion lacing her tone. Jack frowned again. She lifted the spoon out of the bowl and toward him. Again, he didn't react. "Colonel?" She looked over at Sam and Jacob, worry in her eyes.

"The infirmary? Why—why is it so dark?" His voice was permeated with fear. Sam had never heard him sound so vulnerable. He swallowed. "Something go wrong with the lights?" he asked with a weak attempt at his usual bravado.

Sam threw Janet a worried look. "Janet?"

Janet put the bowl down. "Colonel, I'm going to check your pupils with my penlight, alright?"

Jack's eyes moved searchingly. Janet flashed the light into each of his eyes—still no reaction from Jack.

"Janet?" Sam pleaded for an answer. "What's wrong?"

"Fraiser? Sam?" Jack asked desperately.

"It's alright, Colonel. I'm going to run some tests. I want you to get some rest."

"No, Doc! Tell me what's wrong! I can't see, can I? It isn't dark; I'm blind! Daniel was right!" Jack exclaimed, trying to sit up, but falling back on the pillow. Sam felt her heart wrench at her colonel's outcry.

"Colonel, please! I don't know what's wrong yet. I'll tell you as soon as I do. Now, I want you to get some rest and eat something." Janet placed the bowl carefully in Jack's hands. He felt around the edge, getting the white mush on his fingers. "Sam, get his head."

Sam lifted his head and placed another pillow under it. Jack leaned into her touch for a moment, his expression that of a man starved of human contact. Sam bit her lip in sympathy, her eyes moistened with tears.

"Open your mouth, Colonel," Janet ordered gently.

"Ugh! What are you trying to do, choke me?" Jack said weakly, coughing on the white concoction the doctor had put in his mouth.

"Nurse, could you help Colonel O'Neill?" Janet called to one of her nurses.

"I can do it myself," Jack told her, holding out his hand for the spoon.

"Colonel, you're in no shape to be doing anything yourself."

"I'll do it myself," Jack bit out stonily.

Janet hesitated, but then gave in, handing him the spoon. "Very well. If you need any help, just ask." She gave Jacob, Sam, and Teal'c significant looks and crossed the infirmary. Sam watched Jack struggle with his spoon and grimace at the taste, her heart going out to him, before following the others to where Janet was waiting.

"I'm going to run a CAT scan and see what I can find out. I don't understand what could be causing this," the doctor told them.

"I have never heard of a Goa'uld using any method that would cause blindness," Teal'c intoned.

"Will his eyesight return?" Sam asked.

"We'll see," Janet said quietly.

Daniel groaned softly as pain shot through his side and shoulder. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the bright lights of the infirmary.

"Daniel!" Janet said with a bright smile, appearing suddenly above him. "Sam, he's awake," She called.

"Hi," Sam said, coming up beside the doctor.

"Hi," he returned weakly, "What happened?"

"You got in the way of some stones that fell off of one of the Goa'uld pillars," Sam told him, sitting down next to the bed.

Another wave of pain shot through his shoulder as he shifted his arm.

"Broken shoulder and collarbone," Janet explained, laying a hand on his arm.

"Jack?"

"He's…fine. Daniel, he's…" She hesitated. "He's blind."

"What?" Daniel asked, his eyebrows shooting sky high and then furrowing deeply. He glanced at his blonde friend in time to see her close her eyes. When she opened them again, she had a stricken expression on her face.

"I did a CAT scan and there's significant damage to his retina. I'm afraid he may never see again," Janet explained, her voice gentle.

Daniel squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and fingers. "Does he know?"

"Yes. He says he doesn't know what happened after he…died. He might be able to remember in a few days, but…"

"How's he taking it?"

"You know Colonel O'Neill; he doesn't talk much. All he's showing us is an unreadable mask…" She shook her head. "I don't know."

"There's…nothing you can do?"

"No, I'm sorry. It's possible that his eyesight may return on its own, but…" Janet shook her head again. "There's nothing we can do."

Daniel looked at Sam. "He's alive and safe, that's the important thing," he said. Sam nodded.

Suddenly, she frowned. "Daniel, Jack…Colonel O'Neill said something about you being right, that it wasn't dark, he was blind. Do you know what he was talking about?"

"That's right. I wondered about that," Janet put in.

"Well, I haven't even talked to him since before he…died." Daniel answered, frowning in turn.

"Well, that's enough chitchat. You need to rest. I'll give you another dose of painkillers if you want, but visiting hours are over," Janet announced, after they all thought about it for a moment.

"I'll see you again later, Daniel." Sam gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled at them both and then shut his eyes.

Jack lay on his back in his infirmary bed. It was soft and warm, at least compared to the hard, cold floor of his cell—if it had even been a cell. The noises of a nearby heart monitor, the quiet voices of nurses and visitors, and Teal'c's breathing from where he sat, were soothing compared to the ghostly echoes of the footsteps beyond those thick, stone walls and the voices in his mind. He clutched at the side of the bed, in need of some sort of physical contact.

So long in that cell without any light and now he was back at the base and still the darkness was a constant companion. He still expected to open his eyes and see the reassuring faces of his friends and teammates.

He ran his hands over his face, causing pain to shoot through his eyes. They were still sore. He couldn't remember what had happened, and he wondered what he could have done to prevent it.

What am I going to do now? I can't exactly lead SG-1 like this. He pushed the dreary thought out of his head. He would deal with that when Dr. Fraiser let him out of the infirmary.

Light steps echoed off the hard floor, coming toward him. They weren't high heels like those Janet and the nurses wore.

"T?" Jack called to his friend, sitting up.

"What is it, O'Neill?" Teal'c replied, his disembodied voice coming from Jack's left.

"Who's that?" Jack begrudgingly asked, annoyed that he had to.

Someone pulled the curtain back. "It's Carter," Sam answered his question.

Jack's face lit up for a minute before he repaired the temporary crack in his personal barriers. "Hi, Carter," he answered, keeping his voice and face impassive, resisting the urge to call her by her first name.

Jack felt his frustration boiling up as he realized Sam was in the room but he couldn't see her face or read her expression. She was the one he had wanted to see the whole time he was captured.

"How are you feeling, Sir?"

"Aw, you know, knee's a little stiff from lying around, not to mention the numerous holes Janet insists on punching in me with her needles, but I'm good—bored, but good. Not to slight the company of course." He attempted to nod toward Teal'c and hoped his aim wasn't too bad. He forcefully unclenched his teeth and pushed his frustration deeper behind his carefully constructed walls.

"Teal'c, Daniel's awake. Janet will probably let you see him if you ask her," Sam told the Jaffa.

Jack heard Teal'c stand. "Thank you, Major Carter." The curtain was drawn back and closed again.

"What trouble has Daniel gotten himself into this time?" Jack spoke awkwardly into the silence, wondering if maybe Sam had left, too.

When she answered, her voice was closer than he had expected, startling him. "He was injured during your rescue mission."

He turned his head toward her as best he could. "Dr. Jackson and his habits," Jack said, shaking his head. He could almost feel Sam smile, and felt a pang that he couldn't see it brighten up her face like he knew it would. What I wouldn't give to see that smile…

Jack started at the touch of her hand on his. He clasped it before he realized what he was doing, reveling in the human contact. It had been so long since he had felt anything but the stone walls and floor of that cell—so long since he had been touched. He felt a connection to the world around him for the first time in days.

"Colonel, I—" Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the curtain being drawn back for the once again. "General Hammond," Sam said, by way of a greeting, pulling away. Jack released her hand reluctantly, cutting himself off from the world again. Jack kept his disappointment from showing on his face and hoped it didn't show in his sightless eyes.

"Major Carter. Colonel O'Neill, how are you doing?" Hammond's voice came from the end of the bed.

"Fine, Sir," Jack answered the formless voice.

Hammond hesitated. "Jack…" The general was using his first name, not a good thing. "I've spoken to Dr. Fraiser and, I'm sorry, but as you are unfit for duty I'm going to have to deactivate your commission."

Jack felt like the general had jammed a knife in to his chest. Up until then, he realized, he had hoped it was all a dream or a mistake, but now Hammond was asking him to turn in his dog tags, and it all became painfully clear that his life, as he had known it, was over. "I understand, Sir." Jack kept his tone flat and emotionless.

"Well, Colonel, your strength has returned, so there's no reason for you to stay in the infirmary, but I'd like you to stay on base for observation." Janet's voice came out of nowhere; the only announcement of her presence was the sound of her high heels on the concrete floor and the curtain that surrounded Jack's bed being drawn back. "I've had one of the guest quarters set up for you. If you're ready…?" The doctor reached out and took his arm.

"It's not like I can tell the difference anyway," Jack replied bitterly.

Janet paused, her silence radiating disapproval, before leading him over to a chair by the bed. She laid his hand on something soft that, after running his fingers over it, Jack realized was a pile of clothes— BDU's, by the feel of them. "Get dressed. I'll send in one of the male nurses to help you."

"That's alright, Doctor. I can take care of it," Jack said, putting the full authority of his former rank into his tone.

Janet didn't reply, but the way she pulled the curtain around him again gave Jack the feeling she was ignoring him.

Over the last few days that Jack had been back, he had begun to realize how much he relied on his eyes to help him do things. Sitting in the infirmary hadn't provided him with that many examples, but trying to get dressed without the use of his eyes really drove the fact home.

He had managed to get his pants on properly, when the familiar sound of someone coming through the curtain announced the arrival of the male nurse Janet had promised.

Jack didn't even attempt to turn toward him. "I thought I told Doctor Fraiser I could handle it."

"Nice to see you, too, Jack," Daniel's voice came back, much to Jack's chagrin.

"It would be nice to see you, if I could," Jack said, cynically.

He could feel Daniel frown. "Sorry…I—"

"Not your fault." Jack sighed, chastising himself for taking his anger out on his socially inept friend. "How's the shoulder?" Jack asked, pulling the black—he assumed it was black—T-shirt over his head, tucking it into his pants, and fumbling with his belt buckle. Darn belt buckle!

"I'm fine. Did you…need any help?" Daniel said in a tone that sounded like he was bracing himself.

"No," Jack growled, sick and tired of people offering to help him. He silently condemned the Goa'uld for doing this to him.

He took the button down shirt of his BDU's, laid it on the back of the chair, and, sitting down, he began searching for his boots. He found one and began the difficult task of tying it. Daniel stayed wisely silent the whole time. Finishing, Jack started feeling around for his other boot. He felt it bump against his hand.

"You know, Jack, no one will think worse of you if you ask for help," Daniel said as Jack roughly took the boot from him. The scientist's former restraint was evidently short-lived.

Jack tied his boot just as roughly, ignoring his friend, irritated at him for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Though, deep down, Jack was grateful that Daniel cared enough to face his wrath.

After a few minutes, Daniel stirred. "I'll tell Janet you're ready to go."

Jack didn't answer, but put on his outer shirt on, feeling the loss of his dog tags from around his neck.

Janet's footsteps returned, and she took his arm again. "This way, Colonel."

"I'm retired," Jack corrected.

Janet ignored him again, leading him out of the infirmary and into what was definitely the elevator.

It was an odd feeling to ride an elevator in complete darkness.

The elevator came to a stop and Janet pulled him down the corridor, giving him a running commentary on what was happening around them. "Here we are: sub-level 25. I had the airmen put all the furniture against one wall, out of the way, where you won't have to worry about it. We're turning left here, Sir. I'll send someone to your house to pick up some clothes for you and anything else you think you'll need." Jack wasn't really listening, but was trying to figure out where they were and keep track of the turns in the corridors. He gave up after a few moments when he realized it was pointless. "We're turning right, now. It's the second door on the left. I'm going to get you a cane to help you get around, but that will take a few days. General Hammond wants to debrief you, but I've asked him to wait until you're settled."

Janet stopped and opened a door, leading Jack inside. "Here it is. I'll post an airman outside your door, if you need any help. Here's the bed." She took his hand and laid it on the soft piece of furniture. "If you follow this wall,"—she put his hand on the wall to the right of the bed—"you'll reach the bathroom. And if you keep going, the door is here. The furniture is piled along that wall, so stay along this one. Is there anything you need?"

"No, I'm fine," Jack told her curtly, tired of people asking him that. Then he added begrudgingly, "Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome, Jack," she replied sympathetically.

Author's Note: I'm glad you guys liked Colonel Browning. I had trouble keeping him from sounding too much like Jack. Jack's blind; were you surprised? As much as I love Jack, I always seem to be beating him up. He's just such a complicated character. I love writing him; especially hurt or injured. It's so sad.