The somnolent Chekov roused slightly in the ambulance. The one eye he could open peered at her, and then with a soft exhalation of pain, he closed it once more.
"Hello, Colonel," Janet cheerily informed her patient. "Nice of you to join our little party. Do you remember who I am?"
"Doctor," he mouthed with a great deal of effort. The effort seemed to tax him as he drifted back into semiresponsiveness.
"Very good answer," she assured him. "Now next question, do you know where you are?"
"No…" The answer alarmed her until after a long pause he added, "We're moving. How would… I know? Not driving."
Seriously, she could do without the Chekov sardonic charm right now.
"Yмник," shot Colonel Volkov. His comment earned him a grimace from Chekov.
"You just called him a smart ass?" Janet hopefully asked her translator. As an angel of mercy, she couldn't really call Chekov out but she wouldn't mind if someone else did.
"Guilty," Vokov easily admitted with no trace of guilt.
"I'll have to remember that term," Dr. Fraiser informed both Russian Colonels. "Yмник," she enunciated.
There was a guttural response from Chekov which caused Volkov to laugh. "Our friend Misha has a very dirty mouth. I cannot translate that as I am a gentleman."
"Yмник," she repeated. It was a word that would come in quite handy, she predicted.
"Vitals are stable. However, I need to see what's brewing in that head of his, so I requested an emergency Cat Scan," Janet explained to General Hammond when he met them at the hospital entrance. She noticed, but failed to comment that Colonel O'Neill was sitting in the driver seat of the General's car. "I also need to call Cassie and inform her that we found him. She was quite worried."
"I can call her," Hammond offered. Janet turned to leave him, to follow the stretcher down the hallway, when Hammond softly asked, "Janet, are you up to this? I'm asking as George, not the General. With you two involved…should we grab another doctor from the base? Brightman, maybe?"
"I know I'll need a neurologist, probably an orthopedic. But… I'll probably stay on as his medical doctor, because I think it best to have someone who knows him and his personality on his case. Plus, he scares Brightman with his grouch routine," Janet explained. At George Hammond's compassionate look, Janet further explained, "General…. George… we're not involved. He's still very much in love with his dead wife. I read the signals he was sending wrong, so… we're just… not. I pushed him a little too hard, too fast."
"You really believe that? I saw how he looked at you when you were dancing at the holiday party." Hammond exhaled and then spoke, "Janet, let me tell you something. That first relationship after your wife dies… can be…very…. traumatic for us widowers. Especially when you were married for a long time, and there are times even though it's been years… when you wake up, and you mistakenly think she's lying next to you in your bed… and your heart skips a beat or two because you think it was just a horrible nightmare. Then you realize, she isn't there and your heart breaks all over again."
Hammond paused and then continued softly. "Then when you finally accept, truly accept that she's gone, you believe that part of your life is over, because you just can't face enduring that agony again."
Janet rubbed her eyes, as she must have gotten dust in them or something because they were watery.
"Then God laughs, and your wife has long since decided that it's ok if you love again. You're mourned enough and you've become a real sad sack. So the two of them get together and send someone to you to kick you in the ass."
"George, this conversation was almost soulfully poetic until that last part," Janet admitted. Hammond chuckled easily. "Who is she?"
George smiled and being a gentleman, proceed to deny everything. "I don't know what you're talking about, Janet. We're talking about you and a certain closed mouth Russian, not me."
"You actually sometimes leave the base before I do these days. I've noticed that the wedding ring was off, and don't tell me it's because you lost weight. Who is she?"
"Did to loose weight, a whole twenty one pounds on my last physical, you even gave me an AttaBoy sticker," Hammond proudly stated. "She's someone who was willing to let me figure it was ok to date again. Got a little annoyed with me, but I'm a bit slow like that, being a dumb boy from Texas who just wanted to fly."
The Texas twang was a bit thick, and Janet shook her head. "She lets you get away with that?"
"Hell no, just like my wife didn't," Hammond laughingly confessed. "Keep me informed, ok? And Dr. Fraiser?"
Realizing that brief moment of George was over, she reverted back their official relationship. "Yes, General."
"I readily admit that I have been a little rough on Colonel Chekov, and turned a not very blind eye on others who were making his assignment a great deal more difficult than it have should have been. I was informed that he is credited with saving quite a few lives last night at great risk to himself. I need to know that man a little better so I can measure his mettle. Get him healthy, Doctor. I'll be returning to the base so please call me there, so hopefully we can stop the Russians from descending in mass on the Mountain if we can give them a diagnosis with a good prognosis."
Hammond was about to leave, when he tilted his head and smiled a very fond smile, "Her name is Maggie."
Six hours later, after assorted Cat scans, x-rays, and various lab work plus a casting on Chekov's fractured elbow, Janet made the decision to return back to the base with Chekov. It was for a hundred different reasons including the minor fact that Chekov knew enough about the Stargate program to be a major embarrassment if his memory returned in front of the wrong people. To her surprise, the entire SG4 team including Major Stephanhickov, still maimed from his Fertility Rite Participation, plus Chekov's ubiquitous aide-de-camp, Lt. Alekseyeva, had met at the hospital room to escort Chekov and his stretcher back to the base. However, there was a brief delay when Alekseyeva had wished to speak with Colonel Chekov in private. Janet Fraiser warned her to make her tête-à-tête short as Chekov was in no condition for a long winded conversation.
Olga Alekseyeva entered the room and quickly went to her godfather's side. It was not widely known but her father had served with both Chekov and Volkov. After her father's death in service, both men had taken her on as a favorite niece and had kept a paternal eye on her and her career over the years.
"Godfather, it's your little Olen'ka. You remember me, yes?" she whispered in Russian
"Of course," he assured her. "Though I remember you as a recent graduate, not like this."
"I'm your aide-de-camp now. You wished for someone you could trust when you working with the Americans so you requested me. It was a very great honor to be selected. You gave me specific instructions on what I should do if anything happened to you. I wish to assure that I am following them. I have your journal and I've sanitized your quarters per your instructions."
"Your father would be proud," Chekov whispered. "What else?"
"Godfather, they are sending Kharitonov here. You warned me that he lacks the true comprehension of the Pandora Box that the Americans have opened. That's he's dangerous and that this project affects the WORLD's safety – not just America, not just Russia, but the world."
"He's… actually… stupid which is worse." Chekov attempted to sit up, jarred his right arm which was nicely casted due to a broken elbow and he winced. "I don't know what's going on, I can't tell you what to do…"
"You told me that you trust Volkov completely. I will reach out to him and advise him about Kharitonov. I hope that will be sufficient," she informed him.
"Tell me why am I here in America?" Chekov questioned. "They tell me it's a project between our two countries but they won't tell me anything more. Afraid of further scrambling my brains."
"The Americans have a program that permits them to travel to the other words. You represent our people in this. You rightly fear that they will bring destruction upon us with their American Jingoism. We have barely escaped alive from their previous errors."
Olen'ka was dead serious so he accepted what she said as the truth. A lot could happen and apparently HAD happened in five years.
"Among the Americans, do I trust any of them? Their general? Anyone?" whispered Chekov.
"You tutored Fraiser's daughter in physics like you once did me. I thought there was a fondness developing between you and the doctor, but it seemed over."
"She called me Mishka," Chekov softly admitted. "I just remember my wife being alive. Not that I was seeing anyone, especially an American. What do you know of my personal life in the last five years?"
"Mother was very concerned about you, as you took Irina's death to heart. You seemed to have forgotten how to laugh. You were very grim, especially with this assignment. But the last few months, you would make little asides to me which were very funny. It started after you began tutoring her daughter, I was happy because you seemed… as though you had decided to rid yourself of your mourning clothes and rejoin humanity."
"Would you know if she and I…" Chekov blushed and ceased talking, but fortunately Olen'ka knew what he meant.
"I don't know because you rarely spoke of your personal life to me once I became your assistant," Olga advised. "On a professional note, their general…. You didn't distrust him, but I do not think you trusted him like you do Volkov."
Chekov closed his eyes and thought.
"Colonel?" his aide whispered.
"Go to Dima. Give him my journal. He will know what to do and will advise you if you can go to the American General with our concerns about Kharitonov. I cannot advise you because I am a liability. Be careful, котенок. You are in treacherous waters, do not drown. I'll pretend to be unconscious and of no use to the Americans and to dear Colonel Kharitonov."
Chekov smiled. "Now I will pretend to be sleeping. God be with you. Protecting our people is our goal."
"No, it's always been the world for you, Colonel. Not just Russia," his assistant reminded him.
Chekov's brief meeting with his aide had exhausted him, as he was drowsy and quiet as SG4 transferred him to the stretcher. Then with a brisk military efficiency, they gently placed the Colonel into the ambulance without jarring him.
"Seriously," the Army medic whispered to Janet Fraiser. "Those are two big boys on that team. I think one of them could have put the Colonel into the ambulance by himself."
"Just be glad that they're willing to help. Chekov isn't the most pleasant of souls to begin with, and I'm sure a third degree Concussion is making him crankier than his norm."
'I've heard," the medic whispered. "I'll avoid the potholes as much as I can."
"Thank you," Janet sincerely stated. She was helped into the rig's jump seat and she looked away from Chekov's IV to see an odd scene… a concerned appearing Alekseyeva giving Volkov a small book which Volkov slipped into his jacket pocket. Volkov nodded his head and two turned away from each other, acting as though whatever had happened, hadn't.
She pondered over what she had seen, when she felt Chekov tap her hand.
"Do you speak Russian?" he asked. Chekov spoke slower than his norm and his accent was quite pronounced.
"A little," she admitted.
"English is difficult for me… now… to translate to and from… hurts my brain. Volkov or Alekseyeva can translate if necessary. I trust them," Chekov explained.
"Yes, I understand," she stated in Russian.
"Your accent is… fair," he mentioned. "You need to sound like you're cursing."
Janet softly laughed, and then explained to her patient, "We've had this conversation before."
"You have the advantage of me, I am afraid."