Five days after a freak accident nearly took his life, Jack was strong enough to undergohis second surgery. All things considered, the procedure went well. Dr. Warner was able to set the break in his arm with little difficulty, and some basic manipulation brought the misshapen tendons in his shoulder back into alignment. A plaster cast was applied from neck to elbow to immobilize and support the healing breaks in his arm and collarbone. The decision to remove his chest tube was also made, and the incision was sealed with a heavy dressing.
Janet watched Jack as he slept. She was pleased with his overall progress, especially considering how close to death he'd been on their first day back. He was still on the respirator, and she suspected he'd remain that way for several more days. Between his badly bruised lung and broken ribs, breathing effectively on his own would be exhausting in his weakened state.
She brushed the hair off his forehead and rested the back of her hand against his cheek. He was cold, and she ordered an extra blanket from the nurse that was in the room. "Don't need you catching a chill now, sir," Janet said to the unconscious man. Infection was still one of the biggest risks Jack faced and she was taking every precaution she could to prevent one from developing.
The nurse returned a moment later with a warmed blanket in her arms. They quickly spread it over the bed and tucked in the corners. "There. That should help a little."
Janet glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. It was pushing 1100 hours, and she was due to make an appearance at SG-1's debriefing with Hammond. She'd had her own debriefing with the general yesterday, as she was scheduled to be in surgery with the colonel when the official one was slated to start. Now she had just enough time to change out of her scrubs and grab a cup of coffee before the others would be expecting her.
"I have a meeting at 1100 that I need to start getting ready for," Janet said to the attending nurse. "The colonel looks good right now. Just keep an eye on his numbers and don't hesitate to page me if something changes. He had his chest tube removed this morning, and that can open the door to complications."
"Will do, ma'am," the nurse replied and settled into the bedside chair to begin her watch.
Janet left the CCU and headed for the infirmary's locker room to change. After trading in her scrubs for something more formal, she swung by her office to collect her notes and some coffee before heading over to the briefing room. When she arrived, the meeting was in full swing. The large central table was littered with photos, documents, and artifacts they'd collected off world. Daniel was speaking, the passion he had for his work clear in his voice.
"And this is the first tattoo Teal'c found on one of the bodies along the trail," Daniel said, passing a small plastic box across the table to the general. "It belonged to the First Prime of Menoetius."
The large man seated at the head of the table studied the golden object inside the box for a moment. He was about to hand it back when movement by the stairwell caught his eye. "Doctor, join us, please."
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Janet asked as she walked over to the table and took a seat beside Sam. She noticed Jack's usual chair was left empty in a small gesture of respect from the others.
"Not at all. Dr. Jackson was just sharing his speculations about what happened on P4J-592," Hammond replied.
"Is everything all right?" Daniel asked, more than willing to postpone his spiel if something was wrong.
Janet shook her head. "Everything's fine. Go ahead and finish."
"O-okay." Daniel dropped his eyes to his notes, having lost his place when Janet entered the room. "Umm…"
"I believe you were about to tell General Hammond about Menoetius," Teal'c reminded his friend.
"Right. Umm…thanks." He shuffled through his papers some more before finally finding what he needed. "Menoetius was one of lesser Titans in Greek legend. He most commonly represented impulse, mortality, and rage, which as you can probably surmise, led to his eventual downfall. Now according to Teal'c, Menoetius served as an under-lord to Cronus for…"
Janet sat back in her chair and tried to listen. Normally staying focused wasn't a problem for her, but today she just wasn't in the mood for a mythology lesson. Her thoughts went to the care Jack would need once he woke up. If he wakes up…if… she chided herself. She'd been in the business long enough to know that things often changed suddenly for patients in critical care. Even still, it was easy to take the man's recovery for granted.
She glanced over at Sam. The other woman looked tired, but not as bone weary as she had two days earlier. Janet had released her from the infirmary yesterday morning and she'd hardly seen her since. Judging from the substantial pile of paperwork on the table in front of her, it looked like Sam had sequestered herself in her lab and worked through most of the night. Immersing herself in work was how she chose to deal with stress.
But your troubles are still there waiting for you when the work is done, my dear… Janet thought. She wondered if she should have kept her in the infirmary another day. Sam would have protested at first, but she ultimately would have accepted her fate without much of a fuss. Unlike somebody else I know…
As active at home as he was at work, Jack O'Neill was one of the most difficult soldiers she'd ever treated. Unless physically incapable of getting out of bed, the man would be a constant thorn in her side until released from her care. Nothing short of a direct order would keep him down once he set his sights on getting up. He would become bored and cranky, and make every effort to ensure those around him were equally as miserable as he was. Janet knew it wasn't entirely his fault. He had a deep-rooted need to be active and independent. Restraining those needs left him feeling frustrated and helpless.
What I would give to have another battle of wills with that man… she thought with a small smile. I promise you, Jack. If you make it through this, I'll…
"Doctor?"
Janet's thoughts were abruptly broken when she heard Hammond's voice. She looked up to find everyone watching her expectantly. A warm flush of embarrassment spread across her face. "I'm sorry, General. I wasn't paying attention."
Hammond smiled. "That's all right, Doctor. I understand you have a lot on your plate at the moment. I asked if you had progress report on Colonel O'Neill."
"I do, actually," she said, quickly regaining her composure. "The colonel is doing quite well considering how things were looking four days ago. His condition has been consistently stable now for the past 48 hours, and he continues to improve. As you are all aware, he underwent surgery this morning to repair his broken right humerus and to address several issues in his shoulder. The procedure went well, and with time and some extensive physiotherapy, he should regain complete mobility of his arm. We were also able to remove his chest tube, which significantly reduces his risk of developing an infection. Hopefully we can start to wean him off the respirator within the next few days, however it's not something we can rush."
"So he's going to make it?" Sam asked.
Janet sighed. It was time for the conversation to get prickly. "It would be easy for me just to say yes, but I'm not going to. The colonel is recovering, but his condition is still very delicate. A lot of things could go wrong, and I want you all to be prepared for that. His injuries were serious, and I feel justified in saying that his survival thus far has been nothing short of a miracle. The odds are still stacked against him, but each time he shows improvement, the scales tip a little more in his favor."
"O'Neill possesses a will of survival stronger than any warrior I have known," Teal'c said from across the table. "If anyone is to survive such injuries, I am confident it will be him."
"If the colonel does come through this, it's going to take everyone working together to get him back on his feet again," the doctor continued. "Pain control is going to be a large part of his recovery, as is rest. You all know he can become discouraged when his body doesn't heal as quickly as his mind. I'm going to need your help keeping his spirits up and encouraging him to make the best choices for himself."
"You can count me in," Daniel said without hesitation.
Sam nodded. "Me too."
"I wish to include myself as well," Teal'c declared.
Janet smiled. She knew she'd have no difficulties getting her friends onboard. She just hoped they would stick around once Jack began feeling well enough to push back.
"And I'll gladly do anything I can to help out too," Hammond generously offered.
"Thank you, sir."
Hammond nodded. "It's not easy to see someone we care about fighting for their life. It makes us wonder if we should just say our goodbyes and let them go, or keep encouraging them to endure their pain with the hopes that they may recover. I know how much Jack means to all of you. He's an important asset to this facility, this country, and this planet. I sincerely hope that he continues to improve and is someday able to walk away from this terrible accident."
He focused this last part directly at Sam. She quickly dodged his gaze and became very interested in a loose thread hanging off her sling. It was clearly going to take more than simple reassurance to convince her she wasn't at fault. And the only person who has even a remote chance of doing that is currently on life support…
The grim thought made the general sigh. "I realize you've all had a rough couple of days, and that the ones to come may not be much easier. Because of this, I've decided to put SG-1 on stand down. In a few weeks, if the opportunity presents itself, Dr. Jackson and Teal'c will be reassigned to other SG teams until Major Carter and hopefully Colonel O'Neill are cleared for active duty."
"Are you sending another team back to P4J-592 to get our gear?" Daniel asked.
"I am, however I'm waiting for a callback from the Joint Chiefs concerning the objectives of the mission. Based on the preliminary mineral survey Major Carter presented me with this morning, a more detailed analysis of the planet's Naquadah content may be in order," Hammond replied. He paused to see if there were any more questions. When none came, he gathered up his papers. It was time to bring the debriefing to a close.
"I know your thoughts are with the colonel right now, but please remember to look after yourselves too. Regardless of how things turn out, there's a long road of recovery ahead you. Just know that you're not alone. Your strengths as a team extend far beyond the confines of the battlefield. Help each other; it will make this difficult process much easier to bear. I know it seems impossible now, but we will get through this. Time may not heal old wounds completely, but it certainly helps dull the pain. I've been through it enough times in my career to know."
He stood and regarded each person at the table with genuine compassion. "My door's open if any of you ever need to talk. Dismissed."
Daniel walked briskly down the hall with his hands jammed in his pockets and a boyish grin on his face. It was his first genuine smile in days and it felt good. With all the stress and sorrow that had come into their lives, it was nice to have some encouraging news for a change. Now all he needed to do was share it with his friends.
He turned the corner that led to Sam's lab and was surprised to find the door closed tight. That's strange… Daniel thought. Sam hardly ever closes her door… He made a fist and knocked loudly. "Sam! Sam, are you in there?"
No one came to the door or answered his calls. He tried the door and found it locked. Daniel frowned. There was a chance she wasn't there, but he'd already eliminated all of her other usual haunts. He'd even checked to see if she'd left the base. No one had seen or heard from her all morning, including the general. He knocked again. "Sam! It's Daniel. If you're in there, open up! I've got something to tell you."
He started to turn away when his efforts were again met with silence, but then he heard movement behind the door. It swung open a moment later revealing a rather upset looking Sam.
"A closed door usually means someone wants to be left alone, Daniel."
"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her swollen, red eyes and puffy cheeks.
"Nothing. Just…nothing." She turned away from the door and retreated back into her lab.
Daniel followed. "I've been looking all over for you. I just got back from visiting Jack and…"
"Not right now, please," she interrupted. She sat down at her cluttered workbench and cupped something small between her hands. "I can't…I just want to be alone, okay?"
"I don't think that's such a good idea right now," Daniel replied, seeking out a second stool and sitting down beside her. "Do you?"
"I don't know anymore," she sniffed, looking down at the object in her hands.
"Hey, isn't that the yo-yo Teal'c gave Jack for Christmas?" he asked, recognizing the brightly painted toy.
She nodded. "I found it in his backpack when I was consolidating our gear."
"I haven't seen it since he broke an old clay urn in my office trying to do some crazy trick." The archeologist grinned. "He tried to put it back together, but wound up gluing his fingers to the table instead. Teal'c learned a few new words that day…" He trailed off when he saw a large tear slide down his friend's cheek. "Sam?"
She shook her head and turned away, not wanting him to see her cry.
"You're still ragging on yourself about this, aren't you?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Probably," Daniel replied in all honesty. "But I think I'd have to give in and listen to reason eventually."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her tone taking on an icy edge.
"It means that everyone thinks what happened out there was an accident except you. Accidents happen, Sam. Making mistakes is part of what makes us human."
"I know. I've been hearing that a lot lately."
"Then don't you think there might be a little truth in it? I mean look at some of the stuff I've done. If I allowed myself to hang on to all of the guilt I've felt for putting you guys in jeopardy, I don't think I could ever leave my apartment," Daniel said with a small smile. "And I wish I could tell you there was an easy way to get past those bad feelings, but there isn't. It's different for everyone. I write in my journals, Teal'c meditates, and Jack…well…that's one of the things I haven't figured out about him yet. Maybe you should ask him sometime."
Met with silence, he continued on.
"We all feel bad when a decision we've made hurts the people we care for or puts them in danger. We think the situation through in our minds over and over, trying to figure out what went wrong and what we could have done differently to prevent it. It's a never-ending cycle of 'what ifs' and 'if onlys,' and the longer you let it weigh you down, the harder it is to pull yourself out of it."
Daniel looked at Sam's back and sighed. It was hard to tell if his words were even getting through to her. It made him sad to see her this way, and he wanted nothing more than to help. He got up and walked around the table. Sam's eyes were closed; tears rolling slowly down her reddened face. Daniel knelt before her and gathered her hands into his own. "What I've been trying to say is that you're not alone. We know how you feel. We've been there, done that, and in our line of work, we'll probably wind up doing it again someday. But the important thing is, we've gotten through it. You have to believe me when I say things will get better."
"I just don't see how."
"Sam, look at me." When she refused, Daniel reached up and took her gently by the chin. At last she complied, her blue eyes shining with tears. He couldn't believe the amount of sadness he saw in them, or the amount of fear. "You need to stop blaming yourself for this. It was an accident. And if you can't see it for yourself, then just listen to what your friends are telling you. We know you, Sam. We know if you had even suspected that rock you picked up was dangerous, you would have never gone near it."
"I wouldn't have," she insisted. "I just thought it was a stone. I didn't know it was going to react with the Naquadah in my blood. I didn't know…" Sam felt something inside of her change just then; a slight loosening of the band that had been wrapped around her heart since she'd first learned what happened to Jack. Her guilt didn't go away completely, but it suddenly became a little easier to bear.
"Sam?" Daniel asked, having detected a change in her demeanor.
"It…it was an accident."
The man's eyebrows rose at her admission. "Yes, it was."
"I still feel bad for what happened. I mean I can accept that I hurt myself, but I still feel bad for hurting Janet and the colonel."
"And that's fine," Daniel assured her, relieved that she was finally starting to come to terms with what happened. "Feeling remorse is something else that makes us human. It also means you have a conscience."
"But if the colonel dies, I…"
"Sam." Daniel abruptly stood and took her by the shoulders, wanting to shut off her train of thought before she slipped backwards again. "Can I please tell you the news I have about Jack?"
"If it's about how bad he looks…"
"It's not. I promise."
"Then what?"
"When I went to visit Jack this morning, Janet was in the middle of evaluating his ability to breathe on his own. He needed a little help at first, but once his body took over, she said he did surprisingly well. He did so well in fact, she's thinking about letting him wake up earlier than anticipated."
"Really? Janet said that?"
Daniel nodded. "She said Jack's still got quite a ways to go before he's completely healed, but he's definitely making progress." He beamed. "Isn't it great?"
Could it be true? Sam thought. Could the colonel really be doing better? He certainly hadn't looked better when she'd visited him the night before. Even the high praise and reassurance from the nurse stationed with him hadn't been enough to convince her. But now, after hearing the news from Daniel and seeing the excitement on his face, she started to feel her diminished sense of hope start to grow.
"It's terrific," she said with a tentative smile.
"I thought you might say that."
"It's hard to believe he's doing so well. I mean just a week ago, we thought he was…" A sudden, urgent need to see him for herself had Sam launching to her feet.
"Sam?"
"I need…I mean I want…" she stammered nervously. Sam stopped and forced herself to take a deep breath. "I'm going to visit the colonel. I haven't had a chance to see him yet this morning. Do you want to come?"
"Actually, you might want to give it awhile. Janet was just about to start changing Jack's bandages when I left. She won't let anyone in while she's doing that." Daniel saw the disappointment on his friend's face. "But you can come with me and help share the good news with Teal'c if you'd like."
"No. I'd better not. I really should try to get a few things done around here," she said, gesturing at her cluttered workbench.
"Okay. Maybe I'll see you at lunch then? I hear they're making pizza today – and not the frozen cardboard kind, either."
Although the thought of food made her anxious stomach clench, Sam nodded just the same. "Yeah. That sounds good."
"Great. I guess I'll see you then, then." He turned and left the room, eager to share the news about Jack with Teal'c. He'd barely gotten a dozen steps down the hall when he heard Sam calling for him to wait. "What's…whoa!" Daniel exclaimed as he was unexpectedly engulfed in a fierce hug.
Sam gripped her friend tightly; ignoring the pain it caused her broken wrist. When she finally released him, his glasses were sideways and his face was flushed with embarrassment.
"What was that for?" Daniel asked, fumbling to fix his glasses.
"It's a thank you," she replied, her smile reaching her eyes. "For being there and having the right words to make me listen. And also for showing me that it's okay to be human."
"You're welcome. Just remember that we're going to get through this and that you're never alone." He squeezed her arm. "It's good to see you smiling again, Sam."
Now it was her turn to blush. She watched as Daniel turned and headed for the elevator. When he disappeared from sight, she returned to her lab seeking something that would keep her mind busy until she could visit her ailing CO.
General Hammond gazed sympathetically down at his unconscious second. Throughout his career, he had seen the effects of battle on the minds and bodies of countless soldiers. The lucky ones recovered and went on to fight another day. But some of them, far too many he felt, never got a second chance. They became disabled, had their spirits broken, or perished on the frontlines. It was one of the unspoken risks of serving in the military, and it followed you around like a dark shadow wherever you went.
Jack hadn't sustained his injuries during battle, but he was most certainly waging war now. He was usually so full of life and energy; it was upsetting to see him so lifeless and still. "You're just a mess, aren't you, son?" Hammond asked quietly.
The bandages around Jack's forehead had been removed, exposing a neat row of stitches just below his hairline. The right side of his face was mottled with blotches of dusky color; the deep bruises slowly starting to fade. He looked tired and worn, his unnaturally pale skin and stubble covered jaw aging him by at least ten years.
Hammond looked down at the cast covering most Jack's right arm and shoulder. There were numerous doodles and words of encouragement scrawled across the top, confirming just how many friends the colonel had around the base. A near perfect sketch of Homer Simpson made him chuckle, as did the cluster of bright red hearts done up to look like a tattoo.
The general picked up a black marker from the bedside table and tried to think of what to write. He wanted to leave something smart, something Jack would appreciate, but the grim situation made such creative thought difficult. He finally settled on a message that was closer to his heart: 'The base isn't the same without you, Jack.'
"And that's the truth," he said, signing his name.
The door opened quietly behind him.
"General?"
He turned to find Sam standing in the doorway. "Major, come join me."
"If I'm interrupting something, I can come back later…"
"You're not. I just stopped by to see how Jack was doing and the nurse stationed with him looked to be in need of a break. I offered to sit with him for a while and she accepted."
"That was nice of you, sir."
"I don't mind. Besides, this is the least amount of trouble Jack has given me in a long time," he said, earning a small smile from Sam.
"How's he doing?" She timidly approached Jack's bed, almost afraid of what she'd find.
"He appears to be holding his own," Hammond replied. "Dr. Fraiser's latest report said he's doing quite well for someone with his type of injuries. If he continues to do good throughout the night, she hopes to wake him up sometime tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Daniel said she was thinking of waking him up earlier than anticipated, but…so soon?"
"The plan is tentative and may still change. She plans to evaluate him in the morning and make the decision then." The general sat down in the chair beside the bed. "So, how are you holding up, Major? Is your hand feeling better?"
"A little. The burn isn't healing as fast as Janet would like it to, but I guess the colonel is having the same problem," Sam said. "She thinks it had something to do with our close proximity to the energy blast. It may have damaged the tissues more than she originally thought. She's certain it will heal, it's just going to take time."
"Are you feeling any better about what happened?"
She shrugged. "I had a long talk with Daniel about it. He was able to help me see that it was an accident."
Hammond looked pleased. "That's good."
"But I still feel guilty." She looked at the bank of medical equipment and then to Jack's face. "He wouldn't be like this if I hadn't mistaken a Goa'uld weapon for a harmless stone."
"Responsibility has its pitfalls, Sam," Hammond said frankly. "I'm reminded of that every time a team comes back through the gate injured. Even worse is when they don't come home at all."
"That's not your fault, sir. You don't have any control over what we face off world."
"No, but I'm the one who issues the orders that send you into those potentially dangerous situations. And I'm also the one that decides whether or not to send in backup. Learning that a decision you've made has had severe consequences never gets any easier. It doesn't matter if you were fed bad intel or forced into it by someone with more bureaucratic power than you. You still feel the pain and guilt, and you wonder if there was something you could have done differently to change what happened.
"The guilt doesn't go away overnight, and sometimes it never does at all. You just learn to cope with it and to accept it as one of the unpleasant parts of life. They say rank doth has its privileges, but it has its burdens too."
Hammond stood and joined her at Jack's side. "You feel guilty because you've taken responsibility for your actions even though they were unintentional."
"And guilt is one of the pitfalls of responsibility?" she asked.
"In some cases it is," the general replied. "But by admitting your mistake, facing your guilt, and seeking to redeem yourself shows that you have good character. And that's just the type of officer I want to have serving on my base.
"This was an accident, Sam. I put into my official report as such. Now you have to see it that way too. You may have accepted it up here." He pointed to his head. "But the guilt won't go away until you can accept it in here." He placed a hand over his heart.
Sam looked up at him, reassured and a little surprised by his words. She merely nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady if she were to speak.
Hammond smiled to himself. He could see the preverbal wheels turning in her head. Hopefully his words had gotten through.
"Why don't I give you some time alone with the colonel," he offered.
"I thought you were watching him?"
"I was, but he'll be in even better hands with you around, Major."
"Thank you, sir," Sam uttered quietly.
He nodded and patted her on the back. Maybe, just maybe, we're starting to get through to her… the general thought as he made his way out of the room.
And for that, he could only hope.
Anticipation weighed heavily in the air the next morning when Janet said would be allowing Jack to wake up. The members of SG-1 had taken over the small observation deck and were anxiously waiting for the moment their leader would open his eyes. Daniel slowly paced the floor, the book on Greek Titans he'd brought to read lying unopened on the counter. Teal'c meditated quietly in the corner, a single candle flickering in a glass jar by his knee. Sam perched rigidly on the edge of her chair, her eyes flicking anxiously between the monitors and the window looking down into Jack's room below.
They had been there for several hours watching and waiting. When they'd arrived around 0800, Janet was in the middle of removing the tube from Jack's throat. It was a tense couple of minutes as they waited to see if he could handle breathing on his own; a collective sigh of relief going through the room when she announced he was doing fine. Now aided only by an oxygen mask, Jack was slowly starting to look more like himself again.
Down in the treatment room, Janet was keeping a close eye on her patient. She had eased off on the drugs keeping him asleep shortly after disconnecting the respirator, and expected him to be coming around at any time.
"Come on, colonel," she urged, giving his hand a squeeze. She frowned when there was no response.
"Is everything all right?" Daniel's concerned voice sounded tinny through the room's small speakers.
"Everything's fine," Janet assured him. "He's just taking his time." She watched as he and Sam conversed, unable to hear what they were saying with the microphone off. Whatever was said made Daniel frown and start up his pacing again.
Janet signed and turned back to the colonel. She knew this part would be difficult for her friends, but excluding them wasn't an option. It was crucial for them to be there, both for their own peace of mind and for Jack's. She knew from experience that his immediate concern would not be for himself, but for his team. Having them there would ease his mind and keep him from becoming overly stressed.
The door opened and Captain Tomas stepped into the room. "Here are the test results you wanted, doctor." She handed her a green folder and looked down at the man in the bed. "Nothing yet?"
"Not even a twitch," Janet said, lowering her voice to keep the rest of SG-1 from hearing her. "And frankly, I'm starting to get a little concerned."
"I wouldn't worry too much about it yet. You have to remember who we're dealing with here," the seasoned nurse replied. She had worked with Jack before and knew all too well about his stubborn streak. "You can't rush the colonel anymore than you can make him follow your orders."
"Ain't that the truth," the doctor wholeheartedly agreed. As the other woman left to take care of something at the back of the room, Janet flipped open the folder and carefully read the information inside.
Everything looks all right… She thought, finding Jack's latest test results to be within acceptable limits. His white blood cell count is elevated, but that should clear up once his burn starts to heal adequately. And it certainly wouldn't be keeping him from regaining consciousness. Maybe he was concussed worse than I thought…but his MRI and EEG results indicated only minor signs of trauma. He hasn't shown any signs of swelling. If he had, we would have picked up on it right…
A sharp intake of air was the first indication that Jack was finally starting to come to. Abandoning her reading, Janet went to his side and took his hand. "Colonel O'Neill? Can you hear me?" He didn't respond at first, but her continued efforts were rewarded when he turned his head toward her voice and weakly closed his fingers around hers. "That's it, sir. Come on. Wake up a little more for me."
Jack's eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused in the bright lights. He could just make out the vague shape of a person in front of him, but he couldn't see the details of their face. They were speaking to him, their words muffled and indistinguishable against the buzzing sound inside his head. He felt as though he'd been asleep for fifty years and now his body was reeling to catch up.
A cool hand brushed gently across his forehead. It felt good, and helped to sharpen his senses some. Details of his surroundings slowly came into focus, as did the face of the person at his side. Janet. He tried to speak her name, but the word caught against his dry, aching throat. He began to cough, awakening a horrific barrage of pain across his neck, shoulders, and chest.
"Easy, sir," Janet said, cringing as the deep coughs shook his body. When it became clear the spell wasn't going to stop on its own, she called Tomas over to help. "Let's sit him up a bit. It'll take some of the pressure off his chest." Using the bed's controls, they slowly elevated his upper body, tucking extra pillows around him for support. When she was satisfied with his position, Janet used her hand to brace up his broken ribs. "You're okay, colonel. Try to slow down your breathing."
His eyes watering from the pain, Jack gritted his teeth and tried to bring the excruciating coughing under control. His efforts proved futile, as his mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood and his vision began to gray as consciousness threatened to leave him.
Janet saw the fine spray of red inside the oxygen mask and cursed. She suspected the blood was old, but this wasn't what he needed only minutes after waking up. Although he had significantly improved over the last week, his condition was still considered delicate. Dealing with such stress so soon could trigger a crash she might not be able to control. She looked up to Tomas. "Trade places with me. I want to get something to calm him down and help with the pain."
Tomas stepped in to support Jack's ribs, allowing Janet to get what she needed from the drug cabinet. Uttering quiet words of encouragement, the nurse couldn't help feeling sorry for the man. The sensation of his broken bones shifting beneath her hand was disturbing; she could only imagine how it felt to him.
The doctor returned a moment later with a loaded syringe and injected it into his IV. "Easy, sir. You're all right."
As she waited for the medication to work, the Janet stole a glance up at the others. They were all standing at the window, their faces a mixture of worry and fear. Sorry you have to see this, guys… she apologized silently.
Her attention was drawn back to the colonel when the sound of his breathing began to change. She pulled on her stethoscope and slipped it beneath the blankets. The drugs were starting to kick in, calming his panic and easing his pain.
"That's right, sir, breathe as deep as you can," Janet instructed, his harsh gasps slowly evening out. Removing the dirty oxygen mask, she took the damp cloth Tomas held out and passed it over Jack's face. Willful to the end, he scowled and tried to move away as she cleaned the blood and sweat from his skin. The doctor smiled. She was glad to see he still had some fight left in him despite what he'd been through.
"Well, that wasn't totally unexpected," Tomas remarked as she slid a new mask into place.
Janet nodded in agreement. "No. I'm just glad it wasn't any worse than what it was." The risk for complications had been high. The last thing she'd wanted was for SG-1 to see their leader go into full respiratory arrest and wind up back on the ventilator. She sighed and pushed the negative thoughts from her mind. Now wasn't the time to be thinking backwards.
"Colonel? You still with me?" she asked, gauging his level of awareness. The man nodded, but didn't open his eyes. Between sheer exhaustion and the amount of medication flowing through his veins, she knew he wouldn't be awake for much longer. "I know you're tired, sir, but I wanted to tell you a little bit about what's going on. You were injured about a week ago in an accident off world. I'll save the specifics for later, but you sustained a very serious chest injury. You've undergone several…"
An accident? Jack's hazy mind tried to keep up with Janet's explanation, but it kept coming back to this one distressing idea. He had no memory of the incident, or the events leading up to it. His next thought was of his team. If he had been injured, than what about them? Swallowing past the dryness in his throat, he tried to get his aching vocal cords to cooperate.
Janet stopped when she realized Jack was trying to speak. She didn't want him wasting the little strength he had on talking, but she knew he wouldn't hear her reasoning until he'd said what he needed to say. Placing her ear close to his mouth, she could just make out a single word through the mask.
"Kids?"
"You're team is fine, sir. They've been pretty worried about you, though. Would you like to see them?" Jack nodded and she motioned his three anxious teammates down from the observation deck. The private room wasn't meant to hold quite so many people, but the discomfort of cramped quarters was hardly noticed as the group gathered around their commanding officer's bed.
Daniel was the first to speak. "Hey, Jack."
Hearing a familiar voice, Jack opened his eyes. His gaze was still unfocused, but he managed to locate the blurry shapes of his friends just the same. He offered them a tired smile and wiggled his fingers in a wave.
"It is good to see you, O'Neill." Teal'c bowed his head in formal greeting. "Your injuries have caused us much concern."
"Hi, colonel," Sam said, peering almost shyly between the two men.
"They were here everyday, sir," Janet told him. "You've got quite the cheering squad with these three around."
Jack's eyelids drooped. As much as he wanted to enjoy his team's company, he couldn't resist the intense pull of sleep any longer. His eyes closed, and he immediately began to drift.
Sam felt a pang of worry when she saw him drop off so suddenly. "Is he all right?"
"He's fine," Janet assured her. "He'll be groggy like this for a few days until we determine the best method for controlling his pain."
"What of the blood O'Neill expelled while coughing?" Teal'c inquired.
"The small amount of blood you saw was residual - leftover over from the initial trauma. I know it's disturbing to see, but it's good that he's bringing it up. Now that he's conscious and somewhat coherent, he can begin working with a respiratory specialist to clear his lungs and keep them that way throughout his recovery."
"When can we stay with him?" Daniel asked.
"Give him a couple of days," Janet replied, noting the disappointment on their faces. "He's still very weak and tired. His body needs all the rest it can get if he's to recover properly. My hope is to be able to move him out of critical care and into a private room off the main ward before the end of the week. You can stay with him longer once he's settled in there."
Teal'c gazed thoughtfully at his sleeping friend. "If rest is what O'Neill requires to recover, than we must permit him to do so undisturbed."
"You're all welcome to come back later. He might be a little more awake by then too."
Daniel came forward and took Jack's hand. "Teal'c says we need to go, Jack. We'll come back, though; we're going to help you get through this. Whatever it takes. Just know that you're not alone." He smiled when he felt Jack's fingers momentarily close over his thumb. "Welcome back, Jack. We missed you." He gave his friend's hand a final squeeze and turned to others. It was time to leave their leader to rest.
"Thank you for allowing us to be with O'Neill, Doctor Fraiser."
"You're welcome, Teal'c. I know it was a big relief for him to see all of you. He made it past an important hurdle today. I'm glad you were all able to be here to help him along." Janet saw a collective smile ripple through the group. Just the brief moment they'd seen Jack awake was enough to lift their spirits and confirm he was on the mend.
With their heads noticeably higher than when they'd first arrived, the team took their leave, confident that Jack would soon be leading SG-1 through the Stargate and across the galaxy once again.