7
Irrevocable Decision Part 14
'Your main priority is to warm him gently and then keep him warm.'
Janet's words echoed round Sam's head as she closed the connection to the SGC. The short walk from the cabin to her car to retrieve her phone was time enough to let it sink in that there would be no cavalry for the time being and this had been seconded after Janet had had her people check the weather forecast for the area.
'Well, it isn't as bad as Antarctica,' she reminded herself, trying to jolt herself out of the bitter disappointment that left her stranded with an injured O'Neill and with no chance of medical personnel getting to them in the next twelve to eighteen hours whilst the blizzard conditions were so severe.
She'd already found the thermostat and turned the heating on full blast, then returning to Jack's side she sank to the floor and placed her own woolly hat onto his head, pulling it firmly over his ears. Moving the duvet, she gently raised the sweatshirt she'd got him into and felt his stomach. She winced at the touch – his body temperature was still far too low.
She had a job to do, though she couldn't help grimacing at what Janet had demanded of her. When she'd gotten him out of his clothes, she'd not even considered the fact that she was dealing with a naked O'Neill – she'd had far too much to contend with, but what Janet was asking certainly made her feel uncomfortable.
Grabbing some small hand towels from a cupboard, she rolled them up tightly then put them in the microwave together with a glass of cold water. She removed them when the warning ring sounded and checked to ensure they were hot but not too hot, and then hurried back to her patient. One she put under his head, another around his neck; the third she placed under the grey sweatshirt against his chest and the last – she hesitated checking his face to ensure he was still deeply asleep – if he were to wake up now…
It wasn't that she was a retiring flower or anything, but when the CMO had reeled off her instructions Sam had baulked at one detail.
Janet's irritated voice had shot into her ear, "For God's sake Sam, you've seen a naked man before!"
"Ye-es, but not the Colonel." She sounded aghast.
"Be grateful I didn't ask you to take his temperature!"
"What?"
The pause was ominous and Sam gasped as she suddenly realized just what that incurred.
Janet continued, "Trust me on this, he'll thank you."
"Hell, I hope not."
That thought seemed to worry her more than the procedure she was dithering over. But gently, with cautious determination, she checked that Jack was still out then pulling at the waist of the sweatpants she'd struggled to get him into, she pushed the last hot towel over his groin, trying hard to ignore the flame of colour heating her face and neck. Nor did it end there.
Removing her own clothes down to her camisole and panties, she slid under the duvet and shuffled up until she felt Jack's ice-cold body against her stomach. Carefully, she placed her arm around his waist and hitched herself even closer, attentive to the fact that she shouldn't disturb his injury. She had to admit that even in these first few minutes she was aware of a reduction in the iciness of his skin.
As her own body grew accustomed to this close proximity, she allowed herself to relax, the muscles in her shoulders, back, arms and legs aching while the weariness, even cuddling a block of ice, induced her to close her eyes – just for a few minutes, she promised herself.
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She woke with a start, struggling to make sense of her surroundings, just for a second unable to comprehend the sensation of a strange body. Her bed? Then it came to her - together, on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around Jack.
"C..c..cold," he stuttered through chattering teeth. He began to cough, the spasms moving all the way down to his injured leg. He groaned softly, achingly.
Rubbing his back, Sam whispered words of comfort as she pulled him back into her arms soothing him, as the tremors continued, with soft words and the warm heat from her body. Unsure how long that episode lasted, eventually Jack's coughing and shivering eased and he drifted into sleep.
Twice more she repeated the procedure with the hot towels, acutely relieved her CO remained unaware, and once she was satisfied she had done everything Janet had requested in dealing with his mild hypothermia, she again searched the drawers, found a large shirt of O'Neill's and put it on, then she turned her attention to the damaged limb. Turning back the duvet a little, she uncovered the bandaged calf and ankle and with a sharp pair of scissors she cut away the dressing, grimacing when the wounds were uncovered. The punctured flesh was angry looking and burning to her touch and she knew enough about wounds to feel a buzz of alarm.
She'd already prepared what she needed for the next procedure and as she reached out with the moistened cloth, she gave up a silent prayer that Jack would remain oblivious of what she was doing. Nightmares from Antarctica still had her waking in a cold sweat but at least that had proven the motivation for her to improve her first-aid, so that what she had to do now was a technique with which she was familiar. That didn't mean she was in any way looking forward to it.
'Be thorough,' were Janet's words of advice, 'Infection is his worst enemy and until I can get there to shoot him full of antibiotics you are going to have to treat his injuries the old fashioned way.'
Biting her lower lip, Sam began to cleanse each puncture with strong antiseptic solution, her own hands covered in latex gloves. She felt him shudder as she probed and pressed on the first laceration and as she continued her meticulous occupation she realized from his increased movements that consciousness was not far away.
"Easy, Colonel, take it easy." She used one hand to keep his leg still as she continued her work.
The low moan, followed by a sharp intake of breath alerted her to his mental presence. Raising her head from the unpleasant task, she paused to check his face and eyes which, shot with pain and exhaustion, struggled to focus on her.
Sam? What the hell was she doing here? Was he hallucinating? Must be, seeing as she looked to be wearing one of his shirts and little else.
Jack struggled to sit up, and instantly Sam laid restraining hands on his shoulders.
"Stay still, Colonel. You've been hurt."
A weak snort of unconcealed irritation greeted her words.
"Help-me-up," he ordered unsteadily, pushing himself onto his elbows, throwing away the cover despite Sam's objections and holding out his hand. He flinched visibly when he looked down and saw the damage.
"Well?" he challenged hoarsely. "Are you going to--?"
"Colonel, you're not supposed to exert yourself!"
"I won't if you damn well give me…a hand."
In his weakened state, Jack was relieved to see Sam moving to obey his order, but the moment he rose to his one good foot he found himself expertly twisted and then gently but firmly pushed back.
"Car—ter!" Unbalanced as he was, he didn't stand a chance and once more found himself recumbent, only this time on his bed.
He swore at her through gritted teeth, his skin a ghastly white from the exertions, but other than giving him a disapproving look, she returned her attention to the work at hand, closing her ears and her mind to everything but the intricate task. Aware of his harsh, wheezing breathing, she realized that he must be in need of painkillers, so she paused to hold out two stronger ones she normally kept for the really debilitating cramps that afflicted her cycle from time to time. When Jack made no move to take them, her face darkened in frustration and she pushed them between his lips, following it with a glass as she cradled his head.
He took what she offered ungraciously.
'Damn the man!' "We're blocked off for the time being, Colonel. When the weather clears a chopper will be..."
"Chopper?"
"Janet's arranging ---."
"Wha-at?" he bristled with anger, his hands clenched tightly as he glared at Sam.
"Sir, you're injured." She couldn't help it, she sounded as if she were addressing a preschooler and Jack knew it, too. "You need to be hospitalized. I think the SGC's the best place--."
"What you think, Carter, means shit to me!" he gasped, his jaw locked in defiance.
Struggling to rein in her temper which was fast reaching eruption point, Sam stared Jack straight in the eye shaking her head in disbelief.
"You made that abundantly clear when you abandoned SG-1."
"And what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, "I thought you and Josh Morgan had hit it off big time."
Hardly able to believe his lack of gratitude, Sam ground her teeth together. 'Concentrate on the job,' she ordered herself tersely. "And now, if you'd shut up and lie still, I'll get on with this."
He fought the pain the only way he knew, meeting it head on, intractable in his need to show no vulnerability. Unfortunately, the constant probing and prodding, without the aid of Janet's happy juice, eventually proved too much for Jack's tolerance levels.
Gripping the bed sheet in his fists, he hauled himself up to a sitting position, hot beads of sweat now pouring down his face.
"Enough, Carter!" he ground out, his dark eyes blisteringly bright, tight lines of pain surrounding them.
Throwing him an apprehensive look she replied, "When I'm finished. Those meds will kick in soon – just hang in there."
Throwing one arm over his eyes, Sam could hear him mumbling obscenities under his breath, some she'd never heard put in quite such colourful terms.
"Nice turn of phrase you've got there, Colonel. It seems you've acquired more country skills than even I could have imagined."
Silence.
She continued her single-minded work, suppressing every feeling of compassion, her one focus to do the job and do it right. Janet had been all too clear on the dangers of infection and there was no doubt the trap was host to a multitude of bugs; it wasn't about whether he would get an infection but how bad it would be. She knew her CO well enough that if she revealed one iota of weakness, he would hack away at her vulnerability and she would wither under the onslaught.
Eventually she was finished with her meticulous cleansing. She sat back, breathing deeply, bone tired and scared in case she'd missed some dirt that would send Jack's temperature soaring, scared that the infection would bring about gangrene or something else she would be incapable of dealing with. Her eyes moved up to the man's face, his features, what little she could see that weren't hidden behind his arm, rigid with the tension of trying to control the pain. He was drained of colour and the sound of his rasping breath was giving Sam cause for concern.
Leaving his side to put away the bloodied cloths and water, she returned with a beaker of warmed milk. As she cradled his head, Jack lowered his arm and stared suspiciously at what she offered.
"Drink, Colonel."
His nose wrinkled but he obeyed and on tasting the honey mumbled, "Like father like daughter." He'd barely taken a mouthful before he turned his head away. "No more."
Sam followed with the beaker "This isn't open to discussion, Sir, it all gets drunk." And seeing that stubborn look she was so familiar with, continued, "I'm just following Janet's orders."
"Haven't you forgotten something here, Carter?" His sarcasm was biting. "I'm no longer in the Air Force!"
Where the hell did he get the energy to argue, she wondered in amazement? Smiling sweetly, Sam replied, "No, but I am and while I'm here you'll do as you're told."
Jack's impenetrable dark eyes watched her, choosing to ignore the proffered drink. "Aren't you taking your duties just a little too seriously, Carter?"
Sam blinked, feeling the whiplash of his words but refusing to show they were marking her painfully. "Thank God someone is, because for sure you aren't." And ignoring the look that had wilted thousands before her, she brought the milk to his lips and through will power alone got him to consume most of it.
When he at last lay back, he wiped the back of his hand against his mouth distastefully. "Your nursing skills stink, Carter." It was a childish thing to say and he knew it the moment the shadow of hurt crossed her eyes. She grimaced in an attempt to hide her feelings.
"Well, I'm all you've got for the time being, Colonel." She smiled tightly. "You're just going to have to grin and bear it, but the moment Janet appears I can promise I'll be out of your hair." Then spinning on her heel she marched out of his bedroom.
Away from his prying eyes and caustic tongue she leaned against the door, closing her eyes against the whole mess she was facing and wishing that she was anywhere other than where she actually was. Her head was splitting with pain and she decided to take a couple of her own painkillers and go lie on the sofa. Glancing at her watch she realized that it was only just past one in the morning. She groaned softly knowing full well that Janet wouldn't be able to get here until well after dawn.
She promised she would rest for just a few minutes, try to bring the thumping in her head under control and then return to check on the patient from hell. She decided there and then that Janet should have been awarded the Medal of Honour a long, long time ago for valour way, way above and beyond the call of duty when it came to dealing with one Jack O'Neill, impossible man, impossible patient, impossible…. She closed her mind to what her heart wanted to say, deciding she was more in need of those pain meds than ever.
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(Go to Chapter 15)