St. Luke's Medical Center was a sprawling complex in the middle of the city. It was a full three blocks worth of buildings and landscaping, with one large main building and several other out patient facilities that were huddled around that one large building like chicks around a mother hen. The place looked as if it had been designed to promote restfulness and calm, with several small private gardens tucked away between the buildings, but at the moment it was anything but serene.

The place was a zoo. Several news crews and a very large crowd of curious citizens were gathered around the outside of the emergency room entrance – held back from actually entering by a large contingent of National Guard troops and local police officers. They weren't rioting or anything; they were just those who were fortunate enough to be living in the middle of where everything was happening just then and were the ones who were brave enough – now that the media was practically guaranteeing that the aliens were all defeated – to come out and see what was going on – or those who just wanted to be part of history and be able to tell their kids or grandkids some day that they'd been there in Sioux City when it had all happened.

"I didn't even think there were this many people living in Iowa," Shawn said as he hurried with Jack and the rest from their convoy of vehicles that had placed them in front of the emergency entrance.

Andrew was looking around as well – and they were all blinded as the TV cameras turned on them, the operators automatically assuming that if they were going inside dressed in formal uniforms that they must be some people of interest. Which of course they were – although they didn't want to broadcast it to the public.

The National Guardsmen closest to them closed around them protectively to keep them from the ever growing crowd, and then ushered them into the reception area of the hospital where the group was immediately met by three men and a woman – all wearing badges and guns, but not uniforms.

"Colonel O'Neill?" asked the oldest, stepping up to Jack.

Jack nodded.

"That's right."

"I'm Russell Enbom, US Marshal's office. These are Inspectors Gaylord, Lee, and Reid."

Jack nodded a greeting to the others as he shook Enbom's hand.

"It's nice to meet you. What can you tell us so far?"

"Well, not a lot, really. We know that the two people pulled out of the alien ship were human – although I suspect you already knew that…"

"Have you identified them, yet?"

Enbom shook his head.

"We're pretty sure one is military – and he looks way too young to be wearing any kind of uniform, really – and we're almost as positive that the other one isn't military. He just doesn't look the type. But neither of them were carrying ID, and the young one isn't wearing any rank markings or dog tags…"

Which was standard procedure when going offworld, really.

"Do you know who they are?" Inspector Lee asked, earning herself a stern look from Enbom, who had probably told all of them that he'd be asking all the questions.

"We're not positive," Jack admitted. "But we think we do. Things have been a little crazy lately and we've lost track of who was where."

Which was true enough, although not the way that the Federal Marshals would think he meant.

"I need to see them," Janet said.

"We can arrange that," Enbom said. "The older one is out of surgery and in recovery. They're having more trouble with the other one. He's seriously injured, from what I understand…" the Marshal trailed off. "Is he supposed to be doing that?" he asked, gesturing to Bregman's cameraman, who had started filming the area – along with the group.

"Yeah. Just ignore him," Jack said, shaking his head. He didn't like the idea of all this being on film – he'd worked far too long in secrecy – but the choice wasn't his to make. "We need to see the person in the recovery room."

He was about 99 percent sure from the descriptions given that this was where Ian and McKay had ended up, but he was going to make sure before he reported to Hammond and the President.

Enbom nodded, then hesitated.

"All of you?"

Jack shook his head. Daniel and Teal'c wouldn't care to see McKay, and Shawn and Andrew didn't have any reason to. Bregman had carte blanche to go where ever he pleased, so he could decide if this was interesting enough for his documentary or not. The two medics would be necessary – as would Fraiser – and it was completely up to Sam if she wanted to go or not.

"We will remain here," Teal'c said. Shawn, Andrew and Daniel all nodded their agreement. Like Jack had speculated, none of them really wanted to go – and had no reason to.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The recovery room was almost as heavily guarded as the hospital entrances. This was to keep out reporters, Enbom said, telling them that one reporter had actually managed to bribe one of the hospital janitors into allowing him to wear his uniform and use his mop bucket to get closer to the action. He'd been discovered almost immediately, of course – since janitors rarely wore hundred dollar shoes to empty the garbage and mop the floors – and now the units guarding both the recovery room and the operating room were watching the staff carefully – and checking name badges.

"I'll wait out here for now," Emmett said as Jack and Sam headed for the entrance to the recovery room.

Jack nodded. That was fine with him, because he didn't want to be on tape any more than he already was, really. He, Janet and Sam all walked through the door and up to the bed. And found Rodney McKay in it, bundled up warmly and attached to several monitors. Surprising Jack, he was also awake, because he looked over at them as they approached.

And smiled a glassy eyed smile that told them all immediately that he was still well under the influence of whatever they'd used to knock him out for the surgery.

"Sam…"

Jack scowled at the informal greeting, but Sam just smiled, more amused than anything else.

"Hey, McKay. How are you feeling?"

She could see now that his arm was in a plastered cast and held in place with a sling – and there was a nasty bruise on his cheek below his right eye.

"Awful." He smiled again, though. "I knew you'd want to come see me. Did you lose O'Neill?"

Since Jack was standing right beside her, it was all he could do to keep from breaking the other arm, but Sam put her hand lightly on the small of his back.

"He's medicated. Be nice."

"Yeah," McKay said, and he started to giggle. "You have to be nice to me. I helped blow up a Goa'uld ship…"

"What happened, McKay?" Sam asked.

"We saved the world."

"We need something a little more specific," Jack said, reining in his temper with some difficulty and managing to keep his voice level. "What happened to SG-4?"

"They left. Or never arrived, really," McKay corrected. "The boy thinks the Ancients hijacked the Stargate – but I personally think that the subspace magneticism was increased due to how much further the wormhole had to extend in order to reach such a great-"

"How did you blow up the Goa'uld ship?" Jack interrupted.

"We didn't. The ZedPM did."

Sam rolled her eyes and looked over at Jack.

"We might want to wait to continue this at a time when he's a little more lucid…"

Jack nodded his agreement and looked at Janet, who had been looking at McKay's chart.

"How is he?"

"Broken arm, broken ribs, nasty concussion and several internal injuries. They managed to put everything back together, but he's really going to hurt once the medication wears off…"

"Let's wait, then."

He'd rather deal with a whining McKay in pain than deal with a giggling one spouting off techno-babble.