"Yesterday," Jack hissed, his pacing unrelenting regardless of the tiny space. "Yesterday, I said, 'If the answer's in the village, why don't we just take them there?' and she said it was pointless. And I was right, dammit, and-"

"Lower your voice, please," Sam chided softly, all too aware of the people outside her little curtains.

"I should have pushed the issue. For you, at least. We could have at least tried," he growled. "And now it's too risky."

"It was too risky for Major Rathbone then. We just didn't know it yet." And the other two members of his team, from what she'd heard, were in dire straits as well.

The pacing stopped abruptly. "God dammit, I want Doc Fraiser back."

Oh, so did she – with every breath. The loss only seemed to amplify as life events stacked up with no one to talk to, through her father's funeral and the end of her engagement and the beginning of the relationship she hoped would be it. And it seemed more likely to be her last with each passing moment, but that had nothing to do with losing Janet. "I'm sure Doctor Lam is doing her best, Jack."

"Well, it's not good enough." Scrubbing a hand through his gray hair, he muttered, "I don't know why I hired that woman."

There it was: at the root of it all, Jack blamed himself. She sighed. "She comes from the CDC. Strange diseases are kind of their thing. She's had more thrown at her in the past few months than anyone deserves, and she's taken it all in stride. How many people could do that and thrive?"

He grumbled something unintelligible.

"She reminds me of you, you know. Walking into a super-secret facility and taking charge like that, with no idea what you'll face from day to day – it takes guts. She's strong, and she's fearless."

Whatever she'd said, it was wrong. The rage dissipated entirely too quickly, leaving him slumped in the chair with an expression she didn't recognize. "I'm not fearless," he admitted quietly. "I'm-"

It wasn't necessarily the sudden halt that bothered her, but the odd way he was looking at her. "What?" she asked as he tugged the curtain back and called, "Nurse!"

"What?" Her heart started pounding in her chest, and that wasn't a good thing in her condition. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Lieutenant Mayes ducked her head through the curtain. "Sir?"

"Her eye. What's wrong with her eye?"

The nurse took one glance, saw the panic evident on Sam's face, and stepped up to the bed. "It's nothing, Colonel, I promise. A blood vessel in your eye has ruptured, but it's one of those things that looks far scarier than it is."

Jack stared at the floor. "Right. I just-"

"It's okay. It's not uncommon even in healthy people, and we've been seeing a lot of it. The sergeants have it, too. It looks bad," Mayes conceded, "but it's okay. Is there anything else I can get you, Colonel? More water, or..."

"No. Thank you," Sam said, and the young woman stepped out. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry."

"Is it really bad?"

His gaze landed on hers and immediately shifted so slightly she probably wasn't supposed to notice. "No," he lied. "Not at all."

Well, there went any more deep, meaningful time together, if he wouldn't look at her. She closed her eyes a moment.

And then opened them. "You know," she said, "your plan could still work. For one person, anyway. And that one person could teach us a lot."

It took a long moment for him to process her meaning before he pulled the curtain aside and headed toward Airman Stolz.

~/~

1130

If Hank had any ideas about this post healing his relationship with his daughter, they were being crushed early and hard. While he had no doubts in her qualifications for the job or the situation, they seemed to be at odds every step along the way.

Maybe, he thought, because his concern had to be the base as a whole – the world as a whole, and her concern had to be a few of the people in it. And maybe that was what she'd seen from him her entire life: that his self-constructed "greater good" had stolen him from what she deemed important. He wondered if the others in Airman Stolz' cubicle could feel the ice radiating off her as she prepared the young man to travel, but he ducked out through the curtain before Jack could say anything.

But the other general, triumphant, stepped out as well, leaving Landry to take cover in the next curtain over. "Sergeant Siler," he greeted. "How are you?"

The thin man raised a heavy, fatigued arm to salute, but Hank waved him off. Siler tugged his oxygen mask down, instead. "Oh, fine, sir. I wish I could be out there on the search for whatever this is, though."

"I think a lot of people would feel better if you were," he conceded, "but it's not a good idea." The man was even paler than usual but for the tiny purple dots all over his skin. His left eye had hemorrhaged. "I thought some of the other techs were here."

"They were, sir. But Sergeant Wieste deployed to help find the radiation source, and the others are building a containment vessel to get it back here safely."

That figured – Siler and his team were some of the hardest workers on the base. "Do you have faith in them?"

"Yes, sir. They're good people, sir."

"Good. Then keep your chin up, Sergeant. The answer's coming."

"Yes, sir." Slowly, carefully, the NCO lifted the oxygen mask from his chin and put it back over his mouth.

Through the next curtain lay SG-11 – the worst of them all. Sergeant Paris sat between the two beds where he'd pulled back the divider, and though his back was to Landry, the white strap of the sling on his arm was obvious.

That broken arm had kept him on Earth. And had maybe saved his life.

"I promise, baby, I'm fine," he told the phone in his other hand. "One hundred percent A-okay. I just gotta stay here awhile."

Unlike the other patients he'd seen, the cots were completely flat, the men unmistakeably ill. Both occupants lay perfectly still but for the gentle rise and fall of their breathing through fogged-up masks. There would be far more equipment if Carolyn could risk it, he knew, but almost everything had been removed or left unused after Major Rathbone's death. Only the small monitors on their index fingers remained, tethered to softly beeping monitors.

"No, no, I'm not in trouble. Babe, I swear to you."

Captain Menard was asleep, but Sergeant James caught a glimpse of the base commander through his blood-red eyes and raised a frail hand to point at him – the only movement he could manage. But it caught Paris' attention; he turned and nearly dropped the phone in surprise. "General, sir."

"As you were," Landry told him quickly.

"Thank you, sir." To the phone, he said, "I love you. I'll be home soon," and placed it back in its cradle. "Trace is gonna be really ripped up about the Major. She really liked him. I don't want to tell her until I can be there."

Considering that official notifications hadn't been done yet, it was probably best that way. The general just nodded.

"Any news?"

"SG-8 is on the lookout for the source of the radiation," he said. "Now that we know what we're dealing with, SG-7 is headed out to meet them with better test gear. They're estimated to reach the village in three hours. And Airman Stolz has agreed to deploy, as well, to help us gauge the necessary dose."

"Yes, sir," Paris said. "We... heard."

So the argument between General O'Neill, his daughter, and himself had reached the entire infirmary. Landry sighed inwardly.

"Tell him we're all pulling for him," the sergeant went on. "I hope it helps."

Glancing at the two prone men, he said, "I hope it helps everyone."

"Me, too." The voice was weak and heavily muffled by Sergeant James's oxygen mask.

Smiling, Landry opened his mouth to answer, but a nurse popped through the curtain with a cart of beverages. "Lunchtime!" she announced. "I know you both are just dying for your nutritional shakes and... this stuff." The glass she swirled was full of cloudy liquid – likely the medications the men could no longer risk swallowing in pill form.

Paris slid his chair out of the way with his good arm before helping his teammate gingerly remove the breathing mask. "I'll give you a hand."

"And I'll just get out of the way," the general offered. "Hang in there, fellas. We're gonna get this figured out."