Author's Ramblings: All rightie. Real Life--yes, I have one... I think... if school counts as life--well, whatever--it suddenly launched a full scale attack on me, so I've not been able to write as much as I'd have liked to. That's why, rather than keep you waiting for a looong time, I'm posting a shorter chap. And so you know, there really aren't that many left of this story, anyway. Though this is likely to the shortest chap of the whole story, it's also the one with the highest ick/yeesh factor...

Jack picked up a pen from the table and twiddled it absently. He needed to do something, anything, whatever, or he'd go crazy. They'd been sitting here a good while already, with the Doctors doing their unimaginably disgusting stuff--cutting through skin and muscle, wrenching ribs out of the way, whatever, Jack really didn't want to know the details. Even if Daniel survived this, he'd get some really magnificent scars, and healing would certainly take some time.

The observation room above the OR was far enough that they couldn't really see a whole lot. The Doc had made the sensible decision that they'd not be sending any camera feed to them. Jack really agreed with her on that. He'd seen blood and guts before, all right, but... No, he really didn't need to see them cutting into Daniel's heart. The thought alone made him feel sick. Actually seeing it would be way beyond what he could take.

All Jack could see was a room filled with people dressed in green surgical robes, and in the middle, on the table, a figure covered with the same fabric. He couldn't even see Daniel's face. All he had was a monitor showing some very technical medical data, squiggles and numbers. Numbers, for God's sake. Was that all it came down to? All that was left of Daniel?

Martouf was down there as well, sitting alone in the corner where he wouldn't be in the way. Though Jack couldn't see his face properly, he figured he looked a bit green around the gills. Looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the universe.

"All right... Making the cardiac incision," Doctor Warner informed the team and the anxious audience. As Jack well knew, he was doing most of the actual work, with Fraiser assisting. He was the surgeon, after all. More experienced, and still, not a whole lot.

"Looking good, so far," Fraiser noted.

Jack didn't know what looked good. He didn't think anything about the situation could look good. He turned his head a bit, and saw Carter and Teal'c sitting next to him.

He couldn't remember ever seeing Teal'c look that tense. It looked weird. His expression was the same, and then again, it wasn't. All the muscles underneath that dark skin were taut as wire.

Carter, on the other hand, didn't even try to hide her horror of what they were watching. Looked like she wasn't far from tears. Jack wondered if he should do something about that. Pat her on the back or whatever. He decided it would probably do no good.

Yeesh. Warner was asking for forceps. They were there, and going for the bullet. This was it.

All Jack could see was Warner crouched over the figure on the table.

"There... I have it..." he announced in a barely audible voice.

"We're getting PVCs," Fraiser noted.

Jack really couldn't understand what the plastic was about--but then, he noticed what she probably meant. A few freakish shapes among the regular pattern of that squiggle he took to be the EKG line. He felt his own heart skip a few beats at that realization.

"I've got it. Almost there... Damn!" Warner cursed loudly. "I lost it."

"It's getting worse--let it be, we'll just have to close it and try again when we've found out where it went-"

"No, it's still right here, I can feel it--I have it again-"

"Goddammit, just leave it when she tells you to," Jack muttered under his breath.

"V-tach!" Fraiser yelled. Whatever the words meant, the message was clear: 'get the hell out of there and fast'.

"Yes, I can see that!" Warner shouted back, sounding exasperated.

"I'll get this bastard out--yes! There!" he declared victoriously, and backed away. He reached to place that bastard--that damn bullet--on a tray next to the table.

"Still in v-tach," Fraiser uttered.

They hadn't had the time to start celebrating, when the alarm they'd all be fearing went off.

Jack saw Fraiser look down and shake her head. "V-fib."

"We've got to start internal compressions-" Warner began, but Fraiser just shook her head again.

"There's too much damage. It's no good."

That was it? They'd come all the way here, and now they'd give up? Jack thought he knew her, and he couldn't believe she'd say that. And she didn't. She went on,

"But--Martouf! Martouf, if there's anything you can do, now's the time! Hurry!"

Martouf leaped up from his corner and ran to the table, elbowing a few of the staff out of the way. He stretched his hands above that green-and-blood-covered figure that was supposed to be Daniel. Despite the glow of the healing device that quickly lit it, the cold dread refused to let go of Jack's mind.

He could feel the whole room, and the one below, holding their breaths. Everything was silent except for that relentless alarm.

It fell silent as well, for a passing second, when Martouf drew away his hands. Then, when Jack was sure he'd faint from lack of oxygen, it settled in that steady beep once again.

"Back in sinus! Pulse at 120," Fraser spelled it out in medical terms.

She couldn't keep that professional facade for any longer than that. Instead, she flung herself at Martouf and grabbed him in a hug.

Jack noticed he'd broken the pen he'd been fiddling.

He wanted to hug Martouf too.

The vague shape that was supposed to be Daniel suddenly stopped being so vague. He bolted up on the table, scattering green fabric and surgical instruments and whatnot all around the place, adding to the near-chaos already in the OR.

Before anyone got there to stop him, he'd managed to rip that breathing tube thing out of his mouth.

"Janet--what--the hell is--going on?" his breathless, raspy voice reached the observation room.

"It's all right, Daniel, just lie down," Fraiser told him soothingly, trying to push him back.

He wouldn't have it. No matter how close to death he'd been, he was as stubborn as ever. And still, not far from panic, it seemed.

"No, I--Oh God--Jackson--Jack!" he called out, bloodstained chest heaving.

Jack didn't need to hear more than that. He got up and ran.

He certainly broke a few speed records on the way, so when he got there, Daniel was still sitting up, despite the Docs and nurses fussing all over and around him.

His gaze was darting wildly about, but as soon as Jack got near, it fixed on him.

"Jack! Jack--you all right?"

"You're asking me that?" Jack didn't think that made much sense. It wasn't like he had been the one who had got shot.

Daniel pointed a hand towards Jack's throat. He placed a hand on it, and felt the uneven line of the cut traversing it where Jackson had threated him with the knife. He had completely forgotten about that. No one else had noticed, either. It was barely more than a scratch. But Daniel had went down at the same time as Jackson, and he might not have seen what had happened, exactly. Whether Jackson had just dropped the knife, or managed to do something with it.

Jack couldn't begin to guess what Daniel remembered of those dreadful minutes when he'd been in that room with that bullet hole in his chest. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't nice.

"Nah, don't worry, Danny, this is nothing, I've done far worse with a razor on a bad morning."

"Jackson?"

"Jackson's gone. Forget about him. He got what he deserved."

"...dead?"

"Gone for good."

"I killed him... But I'm--he's--not the same-"

"Yeah, he was nothing like you," Jack reassured him, placing a hand on his shivering shoulder. "Just forget about him."

Daniel nodded, though his bewildered expression didn't change a bit.

"Teal'c?"

"Well, you know Junior... T's a lot better already. He's on his feet again. But I really think you should do as the Doc says and lie down."

"But--there's nothing wrong with me, really. Not hurting anymore."

"I wouldn't be quite so quick to say there's nothing wrong with anyone who's just woken up from open heart surgery," Fraiser put in.

Daniel fell silent and gazed at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Just be nice and humor the Docs, will ya. They've been having a hard time with this. As have you. Believe me."

Daniel shrugged, and finally lay back on the table. Fraiser moved in to check his vitals, and offered Jack a warm smile as thanks.

"May I?" Jack asked, and picked up a cloth from a nearby table, gesturing vaguely at Daniel's chest. Fraiser nodded.

Since he couldn't stand seeing all that blood, he began wiping it off, slightly concerned what he might find beneath it.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, frowning.

"A moment, Danny... Just stay still."

The blood was already drying and sticky, and didn't come off that easily. A nurse came to offer Jack a wet cloth instead. He accepted it thankfully. Daniel flinched when it touched his skin, but, for once, obeyed Jack's order and stayed down. It worked a lot better.

"Well, I'll be damned,"Jack whispered.

All he saw, all he found, was perfectly smooth, unharmed skin. No scars. Nothing at all. Not the slightest sign of all the horrors that had passed.