Sorry folks, but there's a little more whumping in line for our favourite character.
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NOTHING IS EVER THAT SIMPLE
By LetitiaRichards
Previously:-
Jack started a little, until he realised that it was probably SG-3 returning from a mission. He lay back again, wishing it was time for SG-1 to return; he was missing Sam, and Mac was missing Teal'c. They still had another two days off-world and Jack could barely wait for the days to pass.
Chapter 18 – A Flying Lesson
Evans, the airman assigned to drive him backwards and forwards to the gym, helped him from the car and then pushed him into building, where he met up with Gary. He dismissed the driver with a nod and Gary took him to the elevator and up to the second floor where Cindy was waiting for him.
The conversation sparkled as they worked out on the bars and then the simple arm exercises, and Jack was looking forward to getting into the pool where it would ease the stiffness from the workout he was getting now.
He could feel his legs getting stronger, he was moving the underwater treadmill better than yesterday's efforts, when he'd felt a little uncoordinated. Once they had finished up Cindy let him relax, just floating free for a few precious minutes. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment until he heard Cindy talking to someone.
"Where's Gary?"
"He's helping Mrs Polouvicka. She had a problem and Gary's help was requested in person," the male voice replied.
Jack opened his eyes and made his way to the chair lift, knowing this time why he would need it. He wouldn't be able to do anything for himself after his session in the water. He knew what to expect now, so he seated himself, ready.
"Ready when you are Cindy," he called her attention. She didn't look very happy but Jack didn't want to know why. All he felt like now was going back to his room and crashing out.
Cindy nodded to the other man as she walked over to the hoist, working the controls.
"Jack, this is Mark, he's gonna help you get dried and dressed, then take you back to the entrance lobby today. Gary got called away."
"Mrs. Polouvicka, right?" Jack said, grinning slightly.
Cindy rolled her eyes with a sigh. There was nothing wrong with Jack's hearing.
"One rich 'biddy' that pampers herself as much as her pet poodle. Poor Gary always has to sort out her little problems. I didn't realise she was due to come here today. Never mind. She only comes once a week, twice if we're really lucky," she said with exaggerated sarcasm.
Jack chuckled.
"But rich huh? Let me guess, she has shares in this place?"
"Oh yeah," Cindy said, blowing out a protracted breath. "The Boss's sister."
"Now that explains a lot," Jack said beginning to shiver, despite the warmth of the room. Mark wrapped him a warm robe and seated him into his wheelchair, then took him off to get changed, bidding Cindy farewell as they left.
Once dried and feeling warmer but exhausted, Jack wondered where they were going.
"Hey, isn't the lobby thataway?"
"Sure it is, but Gary asked me to take you upstairs to the restaurant for some reason when you'd finished. Said he'd got a real treat lined up for you."
"Really? For me?" Jack wondered what that would all be about. It had him thinking about the surprise instead of where they were going.
They exited the elevator and within a few steps, mark swung them through another door. Jack gaped in confusion at the stairs for a moment before squirming round to look up at Mark.
"This is the stairs?"
"And?" Mark quipped snarkily.
"I can't do stairs yet."
"I know that."
"So why are we here?"
"Here's the little surprise for you O'Neill."
With that Mark gave him one almighty push and Jack suddenly found himself falling into empty air for a few seconds.
"What the hell?" Jack cried out in shock, unable to help himself in fending off Mark's attempt to kill him.
He tried to grab at the rails as he passed in order to stop his momentum, but he had no strength in his arms to hold on to them. He crashed down the steps, tumbling alongside his wheelchair. The breath knocked out of him, and the feeling of dread coiled his inside, he could only hope that he would survive this. After hitting the concrete steps and metal railings several times as well as colliding painfully with his chair, he finally landed with a pain filled groan to lie in an ungainly heap at the bottom, tangled up in the mangled remains of his wheelchair.
Mark watched with a growing smile; his job was done. He sneaked away from the stairwell and made his escape to the lobby. Once there, he found Jack's assigned driver and directed him up to the restaurant, saying that O'Neill had wanted to meet him up there. With things underway, he returned to his duties. With any luck, nobody would be any the wiser about his part in O'Neill's unfortunate accident which led to his death.
Meanwhile Jack lay helpless. He was in pain, unable to move, and knew without a doubt he definitely had a concussion; blood was trickling down his face to puddle on the floor under his head from a cut somewhere on his forehead. His vision wavered and he hoped to god that he hadn't sustained any further damage to his legs and arms, but held out little hope of that according to how much pain he was in. His breathing was ragged and painful too, so he suspected a few broken ribs. The one thought that helped him bear his agony as the black spots danced in front of his eyes and multiplied, was that someone was bound to find him any minute. The fact that Sam loved him was the last thought he had as he gave a shuddering moan and fell headlong into the darkness of the abyss.
OoOoOoOoO
Meanwhile back at the SGC, a certain young dog, who adored his new master already, tilted his head back and howled loudly.
People couldn't figure out what was wrong with the puppy and were trying to distract him with tidbits of food or toys to play with but, he wasn't interested in anything. Mac knew only one thing, that his master was hurt and alone; and that he was not at his side.
The howling continued for some time and someone commented in passing that he'd heard somewhere that dogs in general only howled like that when their owners died.
It was right about then that General Hammond received a phone call from Cindy.
OoOoOoOoO
Hammond hurried in through the doors of the Academy hospital, his face bleached of any colour by his concern.
He met up with Janet Fraiser in the corridor, her hands clasping the clip board with several sheets of paper attached to it.
"How is he?" he demanded, visibly upset by the news of Jack's fall.
Becoming all business like, Janet gathered herself to make her report.
"Not good. His right arm was fractured. He has bruising along his right side around the area of his ribs but luckily none of them were actually broken, though one or two were cracked, and his right knee is badly bruised and swollen. He suffered from a concussion and there's some swelling of the brain tissues which could account for his comatose state. He hasn't come round at since the accident. It's a mercy the fall didn't kill him," she said, looking up from her notes. They both knew that this was going to set his recovery back several weeks now.
"I don't understand what he was trying to do?" Hammond sighed. "What in the hell did he hope to achieve?" Hammond was furious. From what Cindy had told him, Jack had fobbed Mark off at the restaurant and then headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. It was all a mystery and one they wouldn't be able to solve until Jack regained consciousness and explained his damn nigh idiotic actions.
"I really can't think sir. He just wasn't ready to try the stairs yet. He knew that General. Cindy explained it to him, that it would be several weeks until he was ready for that."
"Yes, well, we all know how stubborn Colonel O'Neill is. I guess he was growing impatient. Okay Doctor, keep me appraised of his progress."
"Yes sir."
"May I see him?"
"Just for a moment sir."
Janet led him along to the side room in the ER where Jack was waiting for his operation.
Hammond looked down on his pale, but bruised and cut features. His forehead was swollen and someone had stitched the deep gash there and done their best to clean him up, though the General could still see traces of blood in his grey hair.
He reached out and wrapped his fingers round Jack's free hand, giving him a slight squeeze of reassurance. Maybe Jack was in there somewhere and would know what that gesture would mean. And although Hammond was mad with him for his foolhardy attempt to tackle the stairs so soon, he still cared enough to be concerned for him.
Jack was a good friend, besides being his 2IC, and a pain in the ass more often than not. What the General wanted more than anything, was for Jack to recover and get back to being his usual sarcastic self. He'd have to admit that he actually missed the man who had become like a son to him.
"Keep fighting in there son!" he whispered, hoping Jack could hear him. "Don't you dare give up!"
TBC
