And we're moving ... ahead, that is :)
"Fine, Dr. Jackson," she said, with an edge to her voice that made Daniel wince inside. She was officially pissed off now. "You're right, you're the expert; but you know that I've actually gotten quite good at this and there's a very good chance that I might just be right," she fairly hissed the last part of this statement.
She knew part of his problem was the severe hangover he was obviously nursing from the previous night's mission success celebration at O'Malley's, as evidenced by the open bottles of Advil and sinus medicine on his desk, but she was beyond sympathy for his self-induced plight at the moment; he'd crossed the line by pulling rank on her. She didn't want to admit that it had actually hurt her feelings.
Slamming her notebook shut, she strode purposefully out the door, shutting it hard enough on the way out to cause the MP's at the end of the hall to jump; she heard the satisfying sound of items in the lab falling over from the force.
She made her way up to the mission prep lab; she'd get a jump on preparing for SG-17's upcoming mission. PX9 107 had not been visited before, the intel was sketchy and the MALP readings were a bit odd; it couldn't hurt to be extra prepared.
Daniel added a wave of helplessness to his nausea now, as the door slammed. He knew he had hurt her; he had practically done it on purpose, he realized, in an effort to push her away.
Though they had addressed the fact that there was an age difference between them, and had agreed it didn't matter; the rare occasion such as this, when he and his body had betrayed each other, were a painful reminder that he wasn't as young as he used to be; that he was a fair bit older than she was.
What bothered him was thinking that he might not be able to keep up with her, that he might hold her back somehow. On what level this might happen, he had never logically determined – they were well matched in certain physical endeavors, he reminded himself, feeling inadvertently aroused at the thought – but the illogical fear was there.
The translation she had been working on was a difficult one, and she was up to the task, he knew that. He made his way over to where she had been. Without realizing it, he slowly immersed himself in the work she had been doing, picking up where she had left off.
It took a few hours, and approaching the matter from several different perspectives, he continually arrived at the same conclusion; the one she had been close to, that she had been trying to tell him about. He realized with a mixed sense of pride and bittersweet humiliation that she had been right on the money the whole time.
His head a bit clearer now and the nausea having subsided, he went over to the telephone. Time for mea culpa, he thought, as he dialed the telephone number for the spot he figured she'd headed to.
As she sat in the lab, poring over the MALP readings and analyzing the soil scans for any evidence of the n-stuffs, she heard the telephone ring. Still angry, she ignored it. She felt a twinge of guilt at this; she knew he was trying to apologize, but her wounded feelings were willing to hide behind her anger just a little while longer.
She wasn't sure what had been worse; the way he had addressed her using the formal military terminology that he himself generally opposed, that they had not used with each other for some time except playfully, or the way in which he had summarily dismissed her theory regarding the translation. She knew she was on the right path as well as she knew her own name; she knew he knew it, too.
A small part of her also knew he wasn't himself, that his hangover was helping to dictate his bizarre behavior that morning, but bizarre or not, his behavior was still his responsibility. The hangover was his own fault; she didn't deserve to be treated poorly because he'd misjudged his own tolerance, even if it was a fairly rare occurrence, she declared to herself emphatically.
The sympathetic part of her brain reminded her gently that bouts of physical frailty sometimes re-ignited his misbegotten thoughts that he was too old for her. He couldn't seem to complete a mission without returning with some manner of injury, and some of those often resurfaced to infringe on his daily life, she recalled with a sudden, heartfelt sense of caring.
But, her anger refused to allow her to acknowledge these thoughts; this was his problem, NOT hers, and she was not yet ready to forgive him for it. She suppressed her own nagging contradictions to this with closer attention to the MALP readings. She'd deal with it when she got back from this mission.
SG-17 was running at top speed now, over the uneven ground, every one of them grateful again for their maneuvers training, which had helped them develop surefootedness in this type of terrain. Luckily, it had also included instructions on using a fall to one's advantage; all four had cuts and bruises from unexpected contact with the ground around them.
The blasts falling all around them served as a reinforcement of the statement of unwelcome they had received from the Jaffa leader. He was rebel, yes, as the intel had indicated; he did not serve any Goauld, but he did not welcome the Tauri.
The planet did indeed have some deposits of both n-stuffs, and he did not seem inclined to share those with any other race, noting that it could invite the equally unwelcome presence of the goauld if word of its existence on this planet were to get out.
Colonel Taylor, heeding his instincts as the hair on the back of his neck rose, had ordered SG-17 to retreat, not wanting to upset the suspicious autocrat any further. But, the Jaffa leader had decided that knowledge of his situation should not travel off the planet, and the sudden, sickly sound of "Jaffa! Cree!" had drifted to their ears as they exited the mud and stone structure that served as the leader's headquarters.
She felt, rather than actually noticing, Captain Gibson falling beside her, almost in slow motion. Everything seemed almost surreal now, as his body suddenly flopped on the ground.
As the staff blasts continued around her, she suddenly felt herself turn, still in surreal fashion, racing in slow motion over to where he had fallen.
"Gibson!"
He was moving; at least writhing in pain was an indication he was still alive.
"Hailey, it's too late, go!" he yelled at her.
At his side now, she looked up and noticed the bush and large rock just off the path they had been scrambling down.
A staff blast that was close enough to singe the sleeve of her uniform clarified the reality of their situation, immediately lifting the surreal feeling. The zat and staff blasts were coming fast and furious.
She pulled him off the path and down under the slight covering; it would be enough to deflect some of the firestorm they were catching right now, until she could assess his condition.
Gibson had taken a zat blast; he might have some internal injuries, and from the look of it, he'd popped his right kneecap out when he fell. If she could hold him on his right side, with whatever energy he had left and her own adrenalin, she knew she could carry him, but she was unsure how far.
She could see the gate; it was still a fair bit away, maybe 300 meters – less than a quarter of a mile, doable – she decided in a quick assessment, if they could get sufficient cover. Lieutenant Powers and Colonel Taylor had not seen Gibson going down; they were almost at the gate.
From there, they could probably manage to cover her and Gibson while they made their way down to the gate; if it turned bad they could easily zip back to Earth through the gate by themselves. Jennifer knew it was risky, but her gut told her it was a necessary risk.
"I am NOT explaining this to your kids, Captain Gibson, sir, now GET your sorry ass up!"
Captain Gibson knew she was right; if he had any chance at survival, he needed to get up and push through the pain; there would be plenty of time for dealing with his injuries on the other side.
She radioed the Colonel; he and Powers had made the gate and Powers was crouching, dialing home as Colonel Taylor crouched beside him, laying down cover.
"Colonel Taylor sir, Captain Gibson is down. I'm carrying him back to the gate; we'll need heavy cover."
"Get the hell out of there, Hailey! We can't hold them forever!"
"On our way, sir!"
She rose up slowly, remaining in a slight crouch, looking up the path. She could make out the advancing hostile forces; she emptied what was left in her P-90 in their direction, and reloaded, watching as several fell, feeling slightly braver as her counter attack seemed to slow the advance just a bit.
Gibson was pulling himself up; as he got up to the same level, crouching as she was, she laid down another round and then turned. Sliding her arm around him; she looked once at him; he nodded his readiness and she took off as fast as they could manage. They would have to be extra careful not to catch friendly fire from the cover that Taylor and Powers would give them.
Watching from the gate, Taylor and Powers fired at the oncoming band of soldiers that served the Jaffa leader; indigenous and Jaffa among them, careful to avoid the two figures in military green that were making their way down to the gate – they were about 200 meters away now.
Colonel Taylor inadvertently found himself holding his breath; Lieutenant Hailey had excellent instincts, but this might just be one situation beyond her abilities, he thought, watching the two struggle with Gibson's injuries towards the gate.
He knew first hand her dedication to "no man left behind," it was almost to a fault, and he knew that if it came to it, she would die on the planet with Gibson rather than not hold true to that principle. He did not want to have to explain this to either Gibson's family or Dr. Jackson.
He dropped another magazine in his own P-90 and sprayed the advancing hostiles, watching with a sense of soldier's accomplishment mixed with anguish at the loss of life as several of them went to the ground; they fell back slightly. Gibson and Hailey were adequately covering the ground between them and the gate, only about 100 meters to go now.
He smiled to himself with pride; she had been on the mark again. Briefly he pondered her rank; he had recently promoted Gibson from Lieutenant to Captain, but Hailey's record, marked by her fierce determination to do the right thing, regardless of what military protocol dictated, had kept him from being able to promote her, too. Watching them here like this, Colonel Taylor found himself thinking she was every inch the captain that Gibson was.
Lieutenant Powers, from his crouch near the gate, watched. If anyone could make this happen, he knew the feisty little blond could. Like Colonel Taylor, he held his breath as the two got closer – 100 meters, 75 meters, 50 meters, 25 meters. Alternately dialing and unloading his own weapon into the advancing forces, taking extra care not to hit his two teammates, he held off on the 7th chevron.
Hailey and Gibson were almost at the gate. The forces were in the clearing now; Colonel Taylor knew that they were about to lose their post.
"Powers, finish that dialing sequence and tell 'em we're coming home!" Colonel Taylor shouted.
"Sir, yes sir!"
The wormhole established; the light blue blast whooshed past them. Powers quickly transmitted the code from the GDO.
"Powers, GO!" he commanded.
With one last look back and sending one last round of ammunition into the oncoming soldiers, Lieutenant Powers ran up and through the gate.
Colonel Taylor reloaded his weapon again, and keeping one eye on his last two troops as they gained the ground near the Stargate, he fired on the hostiles again, carefully backing up towards the wormhole, trying to avoid the staff and zat blasts they were returning.
Hailey and Gibson stumbled up the steps of the portal together, Colonel Taylor let out his breath; they had made it. He stepped down as they came up and grabbed the injured man by his left arm, taking over the task of carrying him and with a nod of approval at Lieutenant Hailey, he hurled himself and Captain Gibson through the gate.
Lieutenant Hailey looked back and emptied the rest of her ammunition into the advancing crowd. She turned to follow the Colonel and Captain Gibson through the gate.
She heard the whoosh of the staff weapons, knowing first by the closeness of the sound, rather than the feel of it, that it must have hit her. Then there was the acrid aroma of burning flesh; her own, she realized. As the force of the blast propelled her into the wormhole, she passed blissfully into unconsciousness, her small, limp body landing like a rag doll on the ramp on the Earth side.
The telephone in the lab rang; Daniel's blood ran cold for some reason as he saw that it was the infirmary.
"Hi Janet," he said, puzzled, his voice hesitant. "What's up?"
"Hi Daniel," Janet said evenly. This wasn't going to be easy. "I don't know if you're aware of this yet, but SG-17 had to return early. They ran into hostiles and took some pretty heavy fire," she continued, calmly, in a matter of fact tone of voice.
Daniel felt as if the world had suddenly screeched to a halt. Jennifer's regular assignment was on SG-17; he remembered all too well when she had left on that mission not more than a week ago.
"Now, they're all going to be okay," he vaguely heard Janet say through the cloud of fear that had engulfed him all of a sudden, "but I've got a couple here in the infirmary that are going to need some extra time healing."
There was no sound from the other end of the line. Janet stopped. "Daniel, are you with me?" she asked cautiously.
"Uh, yes, yes, I'm here," Daniel said absently.
"Daniel, it's Lieutenant Hailey – Jennifer," Janet finally said. She waited. She heard Daniel sigh.
"Now, she's going to be okay; she took a direct staff hit and she got banged up pretty good. We patched her up and I gave her something for the pain, so she'll be asleep for a while, but I wanted you to hear it from me," Janet said.
"Thanks, Janet," Daniel said slowly. "I appreciate that." He hung up the telephone.
Janet listened to the phone hanging up, exchanging a glance with Sam. She wondered if she should have gone over there and told him in person, or sent either Sam or Colonel O'Neill. She knew that this was what he'd always been afraid of; it was what all family members of SG personnel went through.
"Doctor, we need your help over here," one of the nurses called over to her. The moment forgotten, she strode over to assist in the dressing of a wound that a member of one of the other SG teams had incurred on a mission that day.
Colonel Jack O'Neill watched from the corner of the infirmary as Janet made the call; if his instincts were correct, Daniel would be right along.
Looking around to be sure he wouldn't be noticed, he went over to the side of the bed where the young lieutenant was. He pulled up a chair next to the bed.
"Lieutenant, how about if I just keep you company until he gets here? I might not be as good looking but I'm a better conversationalist – unless you like all that talk about the rocks and stuff," he joked to the small, still form.
He'd been in the gate-room when she had come hurtling through the gate; even with all of his experiences, he was pretty sure that was one sight he'd never get out of his head. Not for the first time, it occurred to Jack O'Neill that retirement was an idea whose time was soon coming.
As his thoughts stepped tentatively down that path, one of a thousand memorable sights that had been imprinted in his mind of his pretty 2IC appeared briefly; she was smiling that fabulous smile. He squeezed his eyes tight to eradicate the image from his primary consciousness and prevent himself from going too far down the dreamland path that it would want him to take.
He sighed then, opening his eyes and looking over at the young woman lying in the bed; she was a hell of a fighter, he knew, and his respect for her at that moment broadened. She'd be okay, he knew; it was Daniel he was concerned about now.
"Look, Lieutenant Hailey, I know I'm not your CO, but my best friend is pretty crazy about you and it would be really helpful if you could just hurry up and recover, okay? We need you both back out there on the front lines and more importantly, we need you alive and well," Jack spoke to the sleeping girl.
Across the room, from Janet's office, Samantha Carter watched him, endeared to him all over again; she always was when he let his guard down and his compassionate side shone through.
She'd been watching from the observation room as SG-17 had come through amidst a hail of staff and zat blasts, the last one being the worst. She knew that this was part of the drill; heck, all SG personnel expected this and were somewhat prepared for it, but it was the more personal ones that struck your soul, she thought.
Samantha and Janet had simply looked at each other once the girl was stabilized; she'd waited while Janet had made the telephone call. Like Jack, she knew Daniel was probably on his way down there at that very moment.
She didn't know exactly what had transpired between them before SG-17 had left on their mission, but her woman's intuition, noticing Jennifer's steely, determined look as she'd strode up the ramp that day and Daniel's morose, melancholy manner since she'd been gone told her something had happened that they probably both regretted now in the worst way.
She was going to be okay, that was the important thing, Daniel's rational mind realized. But his emotional side could only remember that the last time they'd seen each other was not the best time they'd ever had; he'd tried to push her away with his cruel words in a rush of relationship fear brought on by his severe hangover that day.
Daniel got up, and headed towards the infirmary, not thinking about what was going to happen when he got there. He only knew that, no matter what else happened, she deserved to hear that he knew she had been right; he owed her that. As he got closer, he began to run, as if it were the most important thing he would ever do in his life.
Janet attended to the task at hand, using it as an example of how to properly dress a staff weapon injury to the med techs on duty. As she was finishing, she looked up; a breathless, slightly disheveled Daniel appeared in the doorway. Yep, he's smitten, she thought kindly, recalling Jonas' keen observation of the two of them from Thanksgiving some time back.
As he heard the sound of someone rushing into the infirmary, Jack smiled at the still sleeping soldier.
"Well, I guess my shift is over, Lieutenant Hailey; your boyfriend's here," Jack said quietly. He looked up where Daniel had just entered the infirmary and was conversing animatedly with Janet while trying to catch his breath. Silently, he slipped out.
Sam watched him go, smiling to herself as she tucked this secret away in the place where she held these things she knew about Colonel Jack O'Neill.
Janet strode over to the door. "Daniel, slow down, it's okay, she's going to be okay," she said calmingly.
"Hi Janet," Daniel said breathlessly. He stood with his hands on his legs, trying now to catch his breath, reaching up and pushing his glasses up on his nose.
"She's over there," Janet gestured to the row of beds against the wall. Jennifer was sleeping in one down the aisle; her left arm in a sling on top of the covers, a large bandage on her forehead. Her pretty face had sustained several smaller cuts and bruises; she was going to have a fat lip for a couple of days, and a good black eye from the looks of things. I wonder how the other guy looks, Daniel thought to himself.
"She's sleeping right now, so you really can't talk to her anyway. What we've given her will keep her out for a while," Janet continued softly.
Daniel's breathing slowed as he calmed down. She was there, she really was going to be okay. Now he had another errand he needed to run. He grabbed Janet's arm. "Janet, I'll be right back, if she wakes up will you tell her I was here and I'll be right back? Thanks!" he finished breathlessly and ran off again.
Janet just smiled and shook her head. Must be love, she thought to herself. She looked over at her office and exchanged a knowing grin on the matter with Samantha Carter.
He returned about an hour later. This time, he was carrying a dozen roses. "Hi again, Janet," he said, almost sheepishly. "Is she awake yet?"
Janet smiled broadly at him. "Well, I guess you can see her for a few minutes. I'm sure she'd love to see you, too. No heavy breathing over there, though, okay?" she added in a kidding tone of voice.
"Thanks Janet," he said, gratefully.
He walked quietly over to the bed where she was. He thought she might still be sleeping, and started to leave the flowers on the table beside the bed when she stirred, opening her eyes.
She smiled at him. "Hi," she said quietly. "Thanks for the flowers," she said, a note of pure appreciation in her awestruck voice.
"Hi," Daniel said. He felt awkward. "How are you?" he asked, the question almost feeling lame as it left his mouth.
She smiled at him again; his awkwardness endeared him to her. "I'm okay," she said, "or at least, that's what the doc tells me," she grinned.
It was his turn to smile. "Well, you must be okay if you're well enough to make jokes," he said, sounding relieved. His face suddenly turned serious.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You were right; I finished the analysis right after you left and you were right. Jen, I'm so sorry," he finished.
She gave him one of those warm smiles he liked so much, reaching over and rubbing his arm affectionately. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't need to storm off like that. I really hated leaving that way," she said, with more than a touch of contrition.
He sat down on the edge of her bed and reached for her free hand; it, too, had some scrapes and cuts on it from the battle that they had engaged in. He held it tightly, not wanting to look at her; he was afraid of what he might see.
She squeezed his hand; he looked up. She was smiling at him again. "I'm glad you came by," she said quietly.
"Me, too," Daniel replied, with a smile of his own. I needed to see you for myself and know you weren't dead, he thought.
"Thank you again for the flowers, really, they're beautiful," she said, her voice still maintaining its note of pure appreciation.
"Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady," he said in the best mock Southern drawl he could manage at that moment. "I know beautiful when I see it," he added with a grin. Now, if only I knew what to do with it, he thought wryly.
She rewarded him with a giggle, the beautiful sound he liked so much. She smiled, but she was beginning to look a bit tired.
"Well, I should really go and let you sleep. The doc said I could only see you for a few minutes. She was worried that the drugs she gave you might have you acting O'Neillish," he said with another grin.
She giggled again. Her eyelids were drooping. He leaned over then and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. He squeezed her hand one more time. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said. She smiled and dropped off to sleep, loosening her grip on his hand.
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, watching her sleep for a few minutes before slipping out.