Chapter 8

Without opening his eyes Harm knew he was in a medical facility of some sort; the beeping of the heart monitor was a dead give away. Fighting the weariness that demanded he drift back to sleep, Harm forced his eyes open, focusing on the stark grey walls of the SGC's infirmary.

"Good, you're awake," an exasperated sounding voice said from beside Harm's bed. With effort Harm managed to turn his head to find a harried looking doctor standing next to him. What was his name again? Marx? Maxwell, Doctor Maxwell. With a barely perceptible dip of his head, Harm acknowledged that he'd heard the doctor.

"It's about time," Maxwell went on. Without warning, the doctor rolled Harm further onto his side, pulled back the hospital gown he was wearing, and started probing the wound along Harm's ribs. Before Harm could express his displeasure he heard someone else doing it for him.

"Hey!" Jack shouted from the doorway leading out to the hallway. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"General," Maxwell said coldly. "Do you mind? I'm examining my patient."

"That's not examining, that's torture," Jack snapped out, stalking closer to the doctor. "Show some respect for your patient doctor, or I will cut orders for you to go examine penguins in Antarctica."

Allowing Harm to roll back to the position he was in when he awakened, the doctor threw up his hands and stalked out of the room in a huff muttering, "I gave up a fellowship at Johns Hopkins for this?"

"Sorry bout that Harm," Jack said as he dragged a stool over to the side of Harm's bed. "Don't tell Danny this, but I've never missed old Doc Frasier and her big needles more than I have since this joker showed up. I asked for a doctor and they gave me a butcher."

Weakly Harm tried to smile, but he had a feeling it didn't get very far. Try as he might, he couldn't force his mind to remember why he was in the base infirmary.

Seeing how groggy Harm was, Jack beckoned a nearby nurse over. "Harrison, why's the Commander so out of it?"

Taking up the chart hanging at the foot of Harm's bed the nurse took a quick look over the scribbles there. "Doctor Maxwell has him on a continuous IV drip, a sedative. Probably for the pain the Commander's surely in."

The words pierced through the fog blanketing Harm's mind and he tried to shake his head. Seeing the motion Jack lifted an eyebrow. "You don't want the sedative Harm? Can't say as I blame you, I hate the damn things myself. Harrison, would you mind dialling back the sedative the Commander is getting?"

"I don't know General, Doctor Maxwell…"

"Rigggght. Well, if he says anything you run, I'll hide," Jack said with a wink at the petite blonde nurse. "You let me handle Maxwell."

"Yes, sir," she said with a blush, turning off the connection. "It will take a little while for what's in his system to work its way out, but he should be feeling clearer in about a half an hour or so."

Nodding, Jack turned his attention back to Harm. "I have to get back for a briefing Harm, I'll see you later."

Harm closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to overtake him again as Jack left the room.

The next time Harm opened his eyes he could feel the pain in his side right away; with a grunt he attempted to take more weight off of his left side in an effort to relieve the pain somewhat. Adjusting his position, he remembered how the wound in his side happened. The moment he remembered being struck by the staff blast, he remembered carrying Patterson's body from where the corporal had fallen. From where Harm had sent the young man to die.

Turning his head into his pillow Harm's mind began to replay the mission in vivid detail. Over and over he saw the glider hit Patterson with a giant blast.

When the mission was beginning to play again in the theatre of his mind he heard the scrape of a stool being pulled across the floor. Opening his eyes he spotted Jack sitting next to him with a concerned look on his face.

"Hey," Jack said when he saw Harm's eyes open.

"Hey," Harm grated out from a raw throat. "Ice?"

"Right here," Jack handed Harm a cup full of broken ice chips. "How you feeling?"

"Like I should be the dead one."

"I know what you mean," Jack got a far away look in his eyes. After a moment he focused on Harm again. "We need to talk about your wound. I thought it would be better coming from me instead of that butcher Maxwell."

"How bad?" Harm asked, guessing by the look in Jack's eyes that it wasn't good news.

"You're going to be out of it for a while, The staff blast tore through the vest, your BDUs, and fried away a good chunk of your skin. I guess you could say it was like being the guest of honour at a barbeque...ribs well done," Jack shrugged lamely trying to lighten the mood. "We do have options though."

"Options?"

"Yeah. The Tok'ra have offered to stick a snake in your head; it would heal your wounds in no time and get you back on your feet. Not my personal favourite, and trust me I've been there."

"Next?"

"Good choice," Jack agreed. "Next, when Carter and SG-1 get back we can have Carter take a crack at you with that Gould hand thingy. She probably wouldn't be able to heal you right up to new, but she would be able to get you out of that bed."

"Hand thingy?" Harm asked confused.

"It's a…thingy the Gould have that you hold in your hand. You can use it to heal people. Hand thingy."

"What's the downside?" Harm asked, shifting position again to ease the steadily growing pain in his side.

Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Jack leaned in closer whispering, "Carter's not very good with it."

"Ah."

"Like I said, she'll be able to fix you up somewhat, but it won't be a full bodyshop restoration. It would, however, get you out from under Doctor Mengala."

"When's she back?"

"They're scheduled to be back later today, tomorrow at the outside. Danny was all ga-ga over this culture they found. He wanted to take part in some ritual they were planning. Probably involved something really boring if it got Danny excited."

Nodding wearily, Harm gave into the pain that had been growing since he woke up. "Carter."

"Good choice," Jack repeated while Harm drifted off to sleep again.

When Harm next started to open his eyes he was vaguely aware of someone sitting on a stool to his right. The soft rustle of pages turning sounded like the reading of a book instead of the flipping of file pages. Opening his eyes the rest of the way he turned his head a little and saw Charlie Jacobs sitting next to him. When Harm turned his head Charlie closed the novel he was reading and gave his CO a little smile.

"Good to see you awake, sir."

"How long?" Harm asked hoarsely.

"Almost twelve hours," Charlie answered after only a moment's pause. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Like I've been cooked over an open fire," Harm said with a weak smile. "How's Black?"

"She's fine, a couple scrapes and some bruises for both of us, but we're both fine," Charlie answered after another pause.

"Jacobs?" Harm pushed.

"Sir?"

"What else?"

"I'm sorry about Patterson, sir," Charlie said softly. "We both are."

"You both are?"

"We've been talking about it, and…" Charlie bit his lower lip and looked closely at Harm.

"And?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Waving his hand slightly, Harm gestured his XO to continue.

"There was nothing you could do, you know that right?"

"Jacobs, he was my responsibility. You all are, and I let him die. Just like Mace," Harm sighed wearily. Since he'd been taken off the sedatives, all he could think about was how Patterson died. Was there something he could have done different? Could he have somehow saved the corporal?

Seeing the pensive look on his CO's face, Charlie fought down his natural curiosity and instead stood up and patted Harm on the shoulder. There was someone else waiting to see the Commander that might be able to get him to see reason, at least she'd assured him she could. "You get better, sir. I heard Colonel Carter is going to be coming by this afternoon to give you another round with the hand device. By your leave, Commander?"

Nodding slightly, Harm dismissed his XO but his mind was already turning over Jacobs' words. Carter was coming by for 'another round with the hand device'? He didn't remember the first round, but now that he thought about it there was less pain in his side.

Harm hadn't been thinking long when he felt someone watching him and looked up to see Linda standing in the doorway looking at him. Lifting an arm he waved her in and gave her a tight little smile. "Black. Are you two tag-teaming me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Skipper," Linda said with an innocent look on her face. Sitting down in the chair so recently vacated by Charlie, she looked her CO over. "You're looking better, sir. I guess those hand devices really do work.

Shrugging slightly Harm didn't know how to answer that. Physically he was feeling better, but he was still weighed down by Marc's death.

"Can I talk to you about something, sir?" Linda asked hesitantly. She had gotten a bit of a feel for her new CO, but she wasn't too comfortable discussing things with him just yet.

"What's on your mind, Guns?" Harm said after a second's pause. He wasn't overly used to Non-coms coming to him with their problems, but SG teams were tighter and smaller than most commands, so he figured he'd just have to 'get' used to it.

"Well, sir, it's our mission. It got me thinking about what happened just before I got tapped to report here."

"What happened?"

"You don't know, sir?" Linda asked shocked. She'd assumed it would be in her service jacket, and that her new CO would have read about it.

"If I knew what happened Black, do you think I would have asked?"

"I suppose not, sir," Linda said, starting to relax a little with her CO. "It happened in Afghanistan. We were up north running search and destroy ops on the Taliban still hiding out in the caves; it wasn't pretty sir."

When Linda shuddered Harm wasn't sure what to say. "Go on."

"We were in the field for six weeks. Hell, we weren't really sure where base camp was anymore it had been so long. The captain just kept getting new coordinates for suspected enemy locations with the order to go in and sanitize the sites. It was hot, dirty, bloody work, sir. One night I was on point; being smaller than the guys came in handy in those caves and tunnels, easier to get around if you know what I mean. Anyway, like we'd always done, when a tunnel branched I kept to the right, Cap didn't want us getting cut off from each other in those things. It was a nightmare to begin with, losing contact with the team would have made it a lot worse. Anyway, I'd been working my way through these tunnels for what seemed like hours and I tell you, sir, I hadn't seen anything to let us know that the bad guys were home. No garbage, no tracks, nothing. We were on radio silence so I couldn't get the Cap's opinion. I wasn't sure what to do, so I decided to wait for the rest of the guys to catch up and see what the Cap had to say."

Harm waited while Linda took a pause in her narrative to draw in a long shuddering breath before continuing.

"I'd taken up a position and was there for… God, sir, they tell me it was only two minutes, two minutes and then I heard the weapons fire. I started working my way back down the tunnels as fast as I could. I had to get back to the guys. I had to have missed something, some tracks, something to show that the bad guys were there, just down another tunnel. By the time I got there, sir," Linda stopped and got a look that reminded Harm hauntingly of something. This Marine was pushing down some powerful emotions, the same as he'd seen Mac do countless times. "They were dead. All of em, dead. The Rangers that picked me up said it looked like the bad guys came in behind us. It was an ambush, and all the guys died because of it, sir."

"There was nothing you could have done, Guns; you didn't know the Taliban were waiting for your unit to go into the cave. Most likely if you'd been with them, you would have died too."

"That's what the Colonel told me when the Rangers got me back to camp."

"He was right you know."

"Maybe, but respectfully, sir? If I wasn't at fault for my team getting wiped out, how can you blame yourself for Patterson?"

"What?" Harm asked taken aback.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I heard what you said to the XO earlier. I wasn't trying to listen in, but you were a little loud," Linda said standing up and came to parade rest. "With all due respect, sir, you couldn't have done anything for Marc. If you'd been there in his place you'd be the one we'd be burying next week, and I don't think that would have solved anything. Hell, sir, you're the only reason we got out of there. Without you we'd all most likely have been chewed up."

"Damn it, Guns, it's my job to keep you all alive, " Harm snapped, giving in to the sudden flash of anger he felt at Linda's defense of his actions."You're all capable professionals. You would have gotten yourselves out."

"Maybe, maybe not. Point is you got us out, and you brought Marc home, sir. You brought him home."

A clearing of a throat brought Harm's attention to the doctor who was standing behind Linda. "I need to check your wounds Commander, so if you wouldn't mind telling the pretty little Marine to be on her way?"

Scowling, Harm bit his tongue to keep himself from chewing out the doctor in front of Linda, but almost laughed out loud at the look that passed over his Gunnery Sergeant's face. There'd be time for that later when he was out of the reach of those damned needles. "Thanks, Guns, you've given me something to think about."

Coming to attention Linda saluted Harm and said, "Keeping officers from beating themselves up too much is what God created Gunnery Sergeants for, sir."

"I thought God made Gunnery Sergeants to kill the enemy," Harm said with a little smirk when he returned Linda's salute.

"That's our day job, sir," Linda said and then executed a perfect about face and left the infirmary without allowing herself to glare at the doctor. She'd seen the look on her CO's face, and she wouldn't want to be that doctor when the Skipper was up and about.