Irrevocable Decision Part 15
He came awake yelling, trembling from the clarity of the nightmare that had gripped him in its hold, feeling his heart beating so strongly he was sure it could be heard. He ran his hand over his face unsure whether tears had mingled with the sweat that seemed to be pouring down him. God, he was hot.
He pushed at the duvet that enveloped him using his good leg to kick it as far away as possible. Desperate to cool down, his eyes searched for water, but there was none at hand.
His mouth felt like it had been through a sandstorm wide open, whilst his head pounded with an internal beat that made him flinch and screw up his eyes. He groaned aloud, uncaring, desperate for something, anything to cool down. The thought of calling for help didn't even cross his mind.
Pushing himself up, the room rotated crazily for a few seconds while he hung on to the side of the bed for dear life, keeping his eyes closed and his head down. He could feel the nauseous bile of burning acid bubbling in his throat and swallowed it down as he stared at his heavily bandaged lower leg.
Standing produced dark spots in front of his eyes and he concentrated on the pain which had escalated from a dull, prominent throbbing to a sheering shard of agony which raced up to his knee and returned to his ankle repeating the same circuit over and over. He bit on his lower lip and sucked in a deep breath.
Sheer mule-headed determination, the contrariness which had his superiors reaching on numerous occasions for anti-acid medication, was what got him up and hobbling out of the door. Across the room Sam lay in exhausted sleep, unaware her charge was up and about and in imminent danger of causing himself more harm.
Oscar raised his head off his paws and puzzled, golden eyes watched the injured man's erratic movements. His tail thudded on the wooden floor but when he received no open invitation to accompany this man, his head returned to his paws and he lay quietly, eyes slowly closing.
Jack opened the door to the deck and leaned against the frame, allowing the freezing air to cool his over-heated body. Loss of blood coupled with the fever had made him light-headed and incapable of clear thought, so the notion of getting to the jetty and immersing himself in the water seemed a compelling idea until, that is, he attempted the steps.
As his good leg stepped down to the next level, his injured foot caught on the top of the deck and the pain he had fought to control exploded. Crying out, he twisted to favour the injury, but his precarious balance was lost and, swaying like a palm tree in a storm; his body began to make its inexorable way to solid earth.
The seconds turned to slow motion as Jack felt his body falling. But as his brain screamed out to protect his injury and his hands automatically shot out to take the brunt of the tumble, he felt himself inexplicably scooped up, but he did not realise he had been hoisted over a broad shoulder as the embracing darkness claimed him once more.
"Going somewhere, Jack? Need a lift – just like the one you were supposed to give me back here?"
The only reply Jacob received as he ascended the steps to the deck was a painful groan, and only now, realizing that Jack was injured, did Jacob's tone soften to mild vexation, "What the hell have you managed to get yourself into now, Jack?" There was no answer.
Pushing through the open door, Jacob witnessed his daughter's horrified expression as she launched herself from the sofa, bleary-eyed and drained, Oscar hurrying towards him. A gentle command from the Tok'ra had the dog instantly lying down to obey.
"What happened?" Sam snapped, "And where have you been?" Her tone was just short of accusing.
"You tell me, Sam. I thought you'd be well on your way to Mark's by now." He looked as if he wanted to know more about her change of plans but finished his own explanation, "There was no Jack when it came time to leave so I managed to hitch a lift to the highway, but had to walk the rest of the way – it wasn't easy and then I found Jack trying to do a flying leap off the top of the deck. At first I thought he'd just had too much to drink..."
Shaking her head in startled disbelief, Sam gave her father a quick run down of events ending with, "Janet can't get here until the weather opens up – probably midmorning if it doesn't start blowing a blizzard again. I've been treating him for mild hypothermia...I can't believe he was able to get up!"
She shook her head in frustration as she followed her father into Jack's bedroom helping him as he relieved himself of his heavy burden. "All I did was to take a nap, I didn't think…"
Seeing the guilt trip Sam was about to go on, Jacob turned and enfolded her in his arms.
"Hey, kiddo, everything's going to be alright. If you hadn't come back here, Oscar wouldn't have gone off and he'd still be out there!" And giving her one of those quizzical looks, he asked, "And do you mind telling me why you are here?"
"I came to kick his butt!" It was said with defiance though her eyes told a different story.
Sam's father grinned widely. "It must definitely run in the family - me too."
Her smile was wan as she turned back to Jack watching as Jacob felt the injured man's forehead; he frowned. "I thought you said he had hypothermia."
"Yea, but I think--."
"Well I'm no doctor but I'm telling you he's got a fever - a high one and listening to the way he's breathing I'd say he's a strong candidate for pneumonia." And checking the back of his neck, he mumbled, "I knew that cough of his would turn round and bite him in the ass one of these days."
Seeing the tears of exhaustion in Sam's eyes, Jacob immediately went into general mode and began ordering her around as in the days of old. Then, she had resented it like hell, right now she was only too grateful to be relinquishing command.
"Boil me some water and put it into a teapot, then look in my tote bag – it should be by the coats – there's a leather pouch containing something that looks like loose tea leaves. Put two pinches into the water then add some honey, three or four cloves of garlic and if you can find any fresh ginger – put some of that in, too." He shrugged as his daughter rolled her eyes spectacularly. "I know, I know - I can expect the Goa'uld to give up their dreams of self aggrandisement before Jack O'Neill allows ginger into his kitchen - I should have known better than to ask. Anyway, let it rest for ten minutes then bring me a cup of the stuff. It works wonders on fevers and the like."
She didn't even stop to question him, simply turning to obey. When she returned to his side it was to find Jack had been changed into boxers with Jacob sponging down his fevered face and body with iced water. He took the proffered drink, aware that Sam had wrinkled her nose at the concoction's less than pleasant smell.
"I said it worked well on fevers, not that it was the taste of the week!" Jacob lifted Jack's head and put the drink to his lips.
From past experience Sam was doubtful of her father's success. She frowned, shaking her head slightly. "He'll never take it orally."
"Have you forgotten who's the senior officer around here?" he asked smugly, then turning back to his patient, said gently but firmly, "Come on Jack, let's get this into you and you'll soon start to feel better."
As the liquid trickled past his lips, the injured man swallowed reflexively, but as Jacob encouraged him to take more, Jack's face scrunched up and he fought to turn away. Ready for such an eventuality, the Tok'ra had cradled Jack's head in a determined grip, and was not allowing him to escape the foul brew.
Little by little, the liquid made its way into the patient, the odd dribbles caught with a towel held by a hovering Sam, and when it had all been consumed Jacob gave his daughter a wink of triumph. "Did you honestly doubt my capabilities when it comes to dealing with Jack O'Neill?"
For the first time in a long time he saw the twinkle that was part of Sam's persona shining in her tired eyes.
She laughed softly and challenged, "I'm looking forward to the same outcome when he's wide awake."
"A walk in the park, Sam." Then taking the towel from her hands, he said more seriously. "You look all done in. Go get your head down, I'll sit with him. He won't go on any more walkabouts, I promise."
Relieved at last that she could hand over responsibility, if not to Janet, then at least to someone she could trust, Sam laid a hand one more time against Jack's cheek, more for her own reassurance than anything else, then returned to the welcoming comfort of the large sofa.
(Chapter 16 to follow soon)