Summary: Bringing her home.
Category: Angst, Humor, Series. Romance possible in later chapters.
Episode Related: None.
Season: None in partcular.
Pairing: Jack/Sam, of course.
Rating: 13+
Warnings: A 'lil bit of cursing. Sorry about that.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s). This is why I am but ten minutes from the poorhouse. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm only playing with the characters for a little bit. Honest. You can have them back in a minute.

The Battlefield Series Part Two

The Way Home From A Battlefield

The first thing she is aware of is movement. An undulating motion that makes her a little nauseous. After that, the sounds around her. Trudging feet, muttering voices. One voice particularly stands out. A male voice. His voice, she thinks. So weary. Not always a good sign.

Then she feels it. Pain. God, her hand, her head...ow, her leg! She stifles a moan, opens her eyes and to her horror notices that she can't really see anything. Her insides gripped with fear, her brain straining to click suddenly into high gear to try and fathom a reason for this, she can't really help it when she whispers quietly, "I'm blind."

The movement stops and a hand comes to rest on her shoulder. "Glad you're back with us, Major." His gruff, but gentle voice takes on a slightly amused tone. "You're gonna be alright. And no, you're not blind. It's dark out here because, well, it's dark out here."

Faintly reassured, she starts to say, "Are you su..."

"Look, if it'll put your mind at rest, I'll do an impression for you."

Sam, despite the pain and disorientation, could only hope he wasn't going to do the Godfather. Again.

A bright light.

As her eyes struggle to focus, she nearly physically recoils from the uplit face right over her. Until she sees it is him. And he is grinning.

"See? Blair Witch!"

A momentary urge to be furious at the shock is completely outmanouveured by the tired relief and joy that is clearly written across his face.

She hears some rumbling laughter from the as yet nameless officers carrying the stretcher. She, too, cannot prevent herself giving a small grin back.

But that doesn't mean that somebody else can't be angry. Very angry indeed. The torch is snatched from the Colonel's grip and a commanding voice erupts from the tiny figure that has just briefly been illuminated in the light before it is switched off.

"Colonel O'Neill." Sam could almost feel him tense next to her as the words cracked out like a whip. " I did not, I repeat, did not, work my ass off, stabilising all of my patients and bringing in extra medical staff, only to come here and have you scare Major Carter half to death!" Her voice softens. "Hello, Sam."

She smiles in the vague direction of the voice. "Hiya, Janet. Thank you for coming." It's all good, thinks Sam. She is with friends. She is already starting to feel a little sleepy again and figures that her best friend has given her some drugs. What a great best friend.

The good doctor's voice is suddenly all business, laced with some warm reassurance. "No problem. Sam, you have a broken ankle, a sprained wrist and a couple of contusions to your forehead, but you will be fine. We are only a couple of minutes from the gate." Again the tone changes. "That is, if we do not have put up with any more stand-up routines from the Colonel."

A slightly strangled sound comes from said Colonel. "I..."

"I do not want to hear anything else from you, Sir. Now I suggest we get through the gate soon. Because all of the time we are here I am thinking of just three things."

The strangled sounds have not quite yet stopped. "Wha.."

"Sam's health, of course. And you. In conjunction with some very big needles."

The strangling noise stops and there is a defeated sigh. "Well, gentleman, we all heard the good doctor. Let's move out."

As she starts to drift, Sam notices the movement begin again. Over the next minute or so, she can hear the Colonel off to her right, muttering almost imperceptibly. "Damn little tyrant...great doctor...big needles... tiny, tiny, tiny...but so loud...shouting...definite control issues...never stops moaning and complaining...Napoleonic powermonger..."

Just before sleep takes her, Sam realises that there is something really relevant that she could add to his train of thought. She tries to lift her head, cannot, and decides to just speak before dropping off into oblivion.

"Sir, Napoleon was really short as well."

-----

Oh, dear God, noooo, Carter. No! Her words, for that one simple statement, rang out, clear as a bell. The stretcher jolts to a halt as he hears Dixon failing miserably to cover a guffaw and the torch turns on, it's beam hitting his face like a sledgehammer.

"Napoleon, Colonel?" There's ice in that there sentence, he thinks.

He immediately realises that he probably looks quite stupid, hands balled into fists at his shoulders and his face screwed up in horror. He knows how to deal with this. Sure he does. Colonel Jack O'Neill draws himself up to his full height, relaxes him arms and oh-so-slightly tense facial muscles, and plasters the patented O'Neill look of boyish innocence on.

"Yes, Doctor." Ah good, the patented O'Neill voice of boyish innocence is still working too. "I hear that Napoleon was very short." He looks blandly around, trying not to squint too badly in the torchlight. He can't see anything, of course, but that's hardly the point. "Why have we stopped? I have an appointment at the infirmary to try out a selection of your finest needles. I've been told some of them are really good. Let's move out."

Even Doctor Janet Frazier can't prevent the slight smile that creeps into her tone as she replies, "Yes, Colonel. It would be absolutely terrible if you were late. Let's go!"

They move on, and as the light from the wormhole ignites, Jack looks down at his 2IC. Who is snoring. Again. Did he say she would never live this down? Now he was thinking she would be lucky to live at all after the upcoming medical 'treatment' he was expecting to endure!

He can't help it. He is bone weary, his shoulders hurts, he aches damn near all over by now and he just wants to fall into the nearest bunk when he gets back and sleep. For a week or so. But he has found her. She is safe. He has found her. He lifts his head, a wide smile of joy near splitting his face as his eyes meet Janet's.

A smile that is openly returned. Though, unfortunately for him, he realises that her joy at bringing back Sam may only be increased by her anticipation of using those needles. On him. Dammity damn damn.

He is the last to go through the gate. Just before he steps into the shimmering blue circle, he let's out an honest, yet affectionate shout at it.

"Napoleonic powermonger!"

His lips are turned up in the smug grin of a victory that can only be known to him as he tiredly, but overwhelmingly happily, takes the single step home.