Chapter 5: Prayer
As Daniel sat outside the infirmary, contemplating the events of the day, General Jack O'Neill sat at his desk with his head between his hands. He had not yet called Detective Pete Shanahan. After all, there was really no need to.
Slowly, one of his hands dropped from his face to reach for the handle of his top desk drawer. Searching quickly under a pile of papers, he pulled out the small object he had placed there earlier in the day, held it in his hand, and stared at it. Gently, he slipped the small gold object onto his finger. Rummaging some more in the drawer, he pulled out a small photograph and traced the images in it with his index finger.
Silently he began murmuring a prayer, "Please, God. She has to be all right. Please don't take her from me now. Not when we waited for so long. It's just not fair. We haven't had enough time...we need more time."
Jack laid the photograph down on his desk. It clearly showed two people in each other's arms, both smiling widely and laughing at each other. One of the figures was Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter dressed in a simple white cotton sundress. The other figure was none other than Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.
It seemed almost like a dream now that she was in surgery fighting for her life. As he picked up the photograph and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket, Jack reminisced about the past two weeks…the happiest two weeks he had had in a very long time. He had been so free, as if a burden had been lifted from him. He didn't have to watch what he said or did. He didn't have to conceal his feelings or pretend. He was just a man who loved a woman. And the astonishing thing was that she loved him too.
He couldn't believe the words that left his mouth as he turned to her that day in The Narrows. What possessed him to suggest Vegas? All he could figure out was that the breathtaking scenery, along with his utter joy at being with her, inspired him to let go of his fears and take the next step towards complete happiness.
Now as he sat worried and dejected in his office, he knew it was the best decision he had ever made. They may have been married for less than a month, but Jack realized that they had filled those few weeks with a lifetime of happiness and love. And he didn't want to lose that now.
They had rushed that Friday to Las Vegas from Zion National Park. Sam spent the morning looking for a suitable dress, as shorts and t-shirts would not do for a wedding. Jack made the arrangements for the wedding, bought a new suit, and got a room in a hotel. The wedding had been a very simple and quick affair, as neither he nor Sam were much for a lot of fuss. In fact, he couldn't even remember exactly what had been said during the ceremony. All he could remember was Sam's sparkling eyes and her joyous laughter as the ceremony drew to a close. She had been so beautiful and so happy. Hell, he had been unbelievably happy as well. And needless to say, the weekend honeymoon in their hotel suite was equally as unbelievable. It almost seemed like a dream to him now.
He continued to sit in his office, almost in a state of catatonic grief. A couple of hours passed, then a ringing phone startled him out of his reverie. "General O'Neill," he answered.
The voice of Dr. Brightman came over the line, "General, sir. I just thought you would like to know that Colonel Carter is out of surgery and is in stable condition for now."
Jack let out a sigh of relief, grateful that Sam had made it this far. "Thank you, doctor. Are you allowing any visitors?" he asked.
"I don't see any harm in it. Dr. Jackson and Teal'c have already been asking to see her. I was going to let them in one at a time."
O'Neill stopped her, "Actually, doctor, I would appreciate it if you let me see her first. I have a conference call in an hour, so I don't know when I will be able to come later on."
"It's all right with me, sir. I'll let you explain it to Dr. Jackson and Teal'c when you arrive."
Jack rushed as fast as he could down to the infirmary without appearing too suspicious. He noticed an anxious looking Daniel pacing outside.
"Hey, Daniel. Dr. Brightman just called me with the news. I hope you don't mind me going in first. I have a meeting in an hour and I want to see her."
Daniel appeared slightly disturbed by Jack's request until he caught the sorrow and anxiety in his friend's eyes – emotions his friend was trying and failing to conceal.
He sighed, "It's fine, Jack. Teal'c and I are probably just going to hang around here for the rest of the afternoon anyway. You go ahead in."
Jack entered the infirmary and walked to the only occupied bed. Sam lay unmoving on the bed, covered with IVs and tubes to help her breathe. Her left arm was strapped to her chest and covered in a plaster cast. The gash on her head had been cleaned and bandaged. Her hospital gown and the bandages could not cover all of the dark bruises and cuts scattered across the pale skin of her face and arms. Still, the monitors provided a comforting and steady beep to reassure all those around that she was indeed alive and stable. Jack sat down by her side and gathered her right hand in his own.
Dr. Brightman quietly approached the General as he sat mournfully by his former second in command. "General, I just wanted to give you a more detailed report of Colonel Carter's status."
He nodded for her to continue.
"The bones in her arm have been surgically realigned and a cast has been put on. It should be back to normal in a matter of weeks, a couple of months at the most. Dr. Warner was able to stop all of the internal bleeding. It seems Colonel Carter's spleen was gravely damaged and the doctor had to remove it, but he was able to get all of the bleeding under control."
"Why is she on a respirator?" he inquired.
"She was trapped under a lot of rubble for hours, General. All of the dust and debris that she breathed in led to what we call fulminant pulmonary edema. In other words, she has a lot of dust in her lungs and it is making it hard for her to breathe. We put her on respirator to help her. Don't worry… it's only temporary. Once her lung function returns to a safe level, we will remove it."
"That's good to know."
"General..." Dr. Brightman's tone was grave. "We also did a CT scan to learn more about her head injury. It clearly showed that she has a subacute subdural hematoma."
Jack looked at the doctor in frustration. He was in no mood for scientific jargon. "Just tell it to me straight, Doc. You can skip the fancy terminology."
Brightman nodded and began to explain using laymen's terms. "Basically, there is a layer of blood building up between the membranes in her brain. In many similar cases to this one, the blood is reabsorbed by the body and surgery is unnecessary. However, if the blood continues to accumulate, she will have to have a craniotomy to relieve the pressure on her brain…it's a surgical procedure where a hole is drilled into her skull to drain away the blood. Dr. Richards, the neurologist from the Academy Hospital will be by to see her this evening. He will be able to tell us if a craniotomy is necessary or not. I think if Dr. Richards provides us with a good prognosis, Colonel Carter has a fair chance of recovery."
"Only a fair chance?" he lamented.
"General, you must understand. Colonel Carter, by all things known, should not even be alive. It is a miracle she survived so long with the internal injuries she suffered. By the time we got to her, she was in hypovolemic shock due to blood loss. And with subdural hematomas... the risks for aneurysms and brain damage are great. In the long run, if she recovers, she may suffer from headaches, memory loss, attention difficulties, anxiety, and even seizures for months or years to come."
"You make it sound so hopeless."
Brightman smiled sympathetically at her commanding officer, "Being a doctor, all I know is that you should never get your hopes up. At the same time, you should never give up hope. She's made it this far, General. She only has a little farther to go and we all know what a fighter she is. I'll let you have some time alone with the Colonel now."
"Thanks again, doc," he replied as the doctor left him alone in the room with his wife. O'Neill gently lifted the hand he had been holding and placed a soft kiss on it. He then returned Sam's hand to the bed, keeping it lightly grasped in his own, and whispered, "Come back to me. Please, Sam.… just come back to me."