A/N: I've been recovering from oral surgery the last few days, and now that I'm FINALLY able to keep something other than broth down, I'm back with another chapter. On the bright side, I have lots and lots of hurt/comfort material to work with now. Poor Carter is definitely going to feel my pain. *evil grin*
Warnings: More blood and guts. Field surgery. Just skip this entire chapter if you're squeamish. :)
Review responses:
ILR: Thank you for holding me to a higher standard with this story! I had a section in an upcoming chapter that dealt with the radio situation, but I decided to add something in this one as well, I realize that Jack would jump on that the second he stopped Carter from bleeding out and stuff.
Guest (July 31, asking about the rest of SG-1):
Daniel and Teal'c are back in the village. (See chapter 1) Daniel is participating in a tribal ritual to eventually become a liaison between Earth and this planet. Teal'c is with him, I imagine he's probably teaching all the village children either how to Kelno'reem or kill their enemies where the stand. Who knows?
Psamanthe:
Oh, do you now? (Okay, yes, I have mostly just been rewriting up until this point, but as we get closer to the end, I'm planning more added scenes and a completely different ending.)
More author's notes at the end, but for now…
On with the story!
Okay, Jackie boy, now you're really deep in doo-doo.
He dug through the medical kit for some large gauze pads, thanking his lucky stars that the kit had stayed mostly dry. He vaguely remembered something about setting a sterile field from Fraiser's advanced field training- but he'd only been there because it was a requirement for a SG team leader.
Jack draped the white gauze over Carter's stomach, wincing as even that gentle movement around her wound caused her to grit her teeth. He laid the second one on the ground near him, then opened a suture kit. A small 'pop' applicator of something clear sat on top, and hoping it was anesthetic, Jack rubbed it carefully on the edges of her gaping wound.
He selected the tools that looked like they might get the job done- and taking a deep breath to steady himself- he carefully slid the suture needle into his 2IC's skin.
She stiffened instantly, hands balling into fists.
"Easy, Carter. I'll go fast."
15 jagged, sloppy stitches later- he's done torturing her.
She's panting, so pale he can practically see through her, and swallowing compulsively every few seconds. She blinks her eyes open and stares at him.
His own stomach flops sickeningly at the realization of what he's done. He's not trained to do this- what if he made it worse? All the pain he just caused for nothing?
His stomach lurches, causing him to turn away from the gory scene in front of him and gag.
"That bad, huh?" Carter groaned from behind him.
"Sorry," He croaked, swallowing hard.
"It's okay," She whispers, "You're human."
"Usually I save field surgery for Fraiser," He laughed dryly. "I don't know how she does it."
After cleaning up the sterile field, Jack applied a clean dressing, and noted the time it went on, nodding with satisfaction that- when five minutes later- it was still a pristine white.
As he checked Carter's pulse and skin, he hobbled to the cave entrance. The rain was still coming down in sheets, and he could barely make out the river itself below. He reached for his radio.
"This is Sierra Gulf One Niner calling Teal'c or Daniel, please respond."
Static.
"We have a situation here, we got caught up in bad weather and Carter's injured. We're holed up in a cave on the eastern side of a cliff directly to the east of the Stargate. Do you copy?"
More static.
He opened his mouth to repeat the call when Carter's weak voice told him to stop.
"Sir, it's not going to work," She said, blinking up at the ceiling.
"I know," he said, "it's 'cause of all the magnets around here, but I might as well try."
Sam chuckled softly. "Geomagnetic storms," she said. "Also the cliff walls will-" her face tightened as she gasped in pain.
"Block the signal, I know. We're almost out of radio range too. Just makes me feel better, Carter."
She smiled once the pain passed.
"Gotta maintain the 'niner' position, right sir?"
His face darkened.
"Yeah. Look, Carter. I'm sorry. I was stupid from the beginning of this mess."
Carter shook her head slowly.
"No sir, not stupid. Both our mistakes."
She smiled. "Blame the Swiss cheese."
"What?" He went back over to her, laying a hand on her forehead to check for fever.
"I'm fine, sir. It's a model used-"
"Okay Carter, let's get you settled," He interrupted before she could work herself up explaining dairy products to him.
Gently, he helped Carter sit up and then scoot to the back of the cave. Jack carefully checked the wound dressing again and attempted to make her comfortable by laying down their remaining dry clothing as a sort of bed. Both their sleeping bags had been lost.
Jack tried to wash away the bloody stains on the floor with her canteen, with limited success. Finally, he washed his hands, set out a pot from their mess kit to collect rainwater, and packed up the medical kit.
He came back to where he left Carter, thankful that blood is only speckling her dressing.
Although she is trying hard to conceal it, he sees the tightness in her pale features that reveals that the morphine is wearing off.
Jack reaches over for the med kit, rustling through the various compartments before fishing out another morphine injector, grunting in pain as he accidentally jars his leg.
Checking the other pouches, he realizes that they only have two more of the injectors- the one in his hand, and the extra one he keeps in his vest. Twenty years of experience getting injured in the field has taught him to always have the good stuff within reach at all times during a combat situation.
He moves to Carter, carefully lifting the emergency blanket away to access her upper thigh.
Realizing what he's going to do, Sam focuses her blurry vision in the approximate direction of his face, pain clouding her usually bright eyes.
"No," She whispers, "You're hurt..." She trails off, her eyes rolling back into her head.
Jack scoots up to her. "No, you don't," He says, concern evident in his voice.
"Carter. You need this way more than I do."
Her head rolls limply in his hands.
"Carter?" He starts to panic, feeling her neck for a pulse.
"Carter?!"
He finally finds a pulse, skipping erratically.
"Carter! Wake up. That's an order!"
Still nothing.
"Major-Doctor Samantha Carter! Open your eyes."
Carter's eyes flutter open, her right hand falling away from her body in search of the disembodied voice above her.
"Right here," Jack says, grabbing the hand as relief washes over him. "I'm not going to let you die on me now. Blaze of glory and all that, right Major?"
Her eyes search his face, uncomprehending and dull with pain. He slides behind her, cradling her head in his lap.
"I have something to take the edge off," He tells her.
"L-leg," She gasps out.
"You're hurt worse," Jack says.
"N-no," She moans, her face pinching in agony.
Before she can protest anymore, Jack reaches down and injects the morphine.
Carter's eyes search his face for a moment before slipping closed.
"Not yet, Major. We need to get some fluids into ya."
Jack knew he wasn't the greatest at estimating blood loss, especially when at least half of it was currently spread up the hillside, but he knew for a fact that Carter needed an IV, preferably with type and crossed blood flowing through it. The med kit they brought with them was for a low-risk mission far away from the gate. A simple meet 'n' greet, where the biggest problem might be a sprain, headache, or medium sized cut that needed a stitch or two before treking back to the SGC. Jack made a mental note to have Fraiser prepare an extra large mandatory med kit for all of SG-1's missions from now on.
Reaching for their canteen, Jack shook it slightly to judge the contents. Almost full, now that he'd filled it up from the sky.
"Open your mouth," Jack said gently.
Carter opened her eyes, looking surprisingly lucid.
"That's going to make me sick again," She said clearly. Jack practically saw her turn green before his eyes.
"We've gotta start replacing fluids, okay? I don't want you going into hypoxic shock on me."
Sam chuckles slightly. "Hypovolemic," she corrects.
"Whatever," he said with a small smile.
He cradled her head with one hand, pouring a small amount of water into her mouth with the other.
"Swallow," He says. She does, then gags. Jack gently strokes the front of her neck, turning her head to the side to prevent aspiration if she does lose the water.
Carter swallows again, taking a deep breath.
"Sir?"
He shrugs. "It helps dogs get pills down sometimes"
Her eyes drift closed.
He's about to shake her awake to try some more, but, after a moment of thought, decides not to press his luck with her already upset stomach. They'd work on fluid replacement more in the morning.
Jack slowly lowers her head to the ground, and tucks the emergency blanket around her tightly. Carter moans quietly as he positions her body to make room for himself.
"Let me take a look at your leg," She slurs, the morphine hitting her system hard.
"I don't think so," He whispers back. "You need to sleep. You can look at it when I check your little scratch in the morning."
He starts to see spots as he tries to move his injured leg into position, and collapses heavily onto the ground. He pulls Carter in closer to him, her back to his front, and clasps his hands around her abdomen. She stiffens as he touches the wound, but the wetness around the bandages tells him that he needs to apply pressure. He slowly and gently wraps his hands around them. She whimpers and her breathing quickens.
"Take it easy Carter. I've gotta put pressure on it. Nice deep breaths."
She lets out a low moan, tries to curl into a ball, and starts to hyperventilate.
"Carter. Slow your breathing. In and out. Just like Teal'c does whenever he's doing that Jaffa thing. Nice and slow."
She whimpers quietly. "Sir…"
He feels her trembling beneath his hands.
"Carter? Are you sick to your stomach?"
"Yes," she moans.
"Okay. We're gonna sit up. Nice and easy."
He carefully shifts, supporting her upper body so her shredded abdominal muscles don't have to.
"Breathe, Carter. Slow your breathing."
"Sorry," She pants, shaking in pain.
"It's okay. Try to breathe for me."
He gently, but firmly, applies pressure to her wound.
"Stop! It hurts… hurts…"
She gagged, spitting onto the floor.
"Do you need to throw up?" Jack asks, shifting his hold so she's leaning forward slightly.
She just groans, hunching over to protect her churning stomach. A string of saliva trails from her mouth
"Hurts…"
"It's okay, Sam," He said, neither of them registering the use of her name.
"You'll feel better once you've thrown up. Let it out."
There was no way in hell this was going to make her feel better, but, well, the little Napoleon had said the same thing to him after his run in with day-old commissary meatloaf and it may have made him feel slightly less panicky in the moment.
Maybe.
She whimpered. "Sorry… I'm-"
The water came up suddenly, cutting her off.
The only sound in the darkness was Carter's stomach contents dribbling to the rock floor, and her panting as she fought back screams of agony.
Jack rubbed the back of her neck, trying to offer comfort. "You're doing great. Try to take nice, slow breaths."
After a minute, she spoke again, breaking the silence that had descended in the cave. "Sir…I-I'm sorry…" she whimpered, "Please… help me."
He held her tighter and whispered into her hair.
"I'm here. I've got ya."
Her body shuddered as she dry heaved. This time, she cried out in pain, trembling from head to toe. He held her, and rocked back and forth gently. After a minute, she bonelessly sagged back into him. He held her upright, one hand on her shoulder, the other pressed to her wound.
"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, ashamed that she had been so vulnerable. Weak.
"Don't worry about it. Just relax."
After a few minutes of sitting together, Jack felt something warm drip onto his hand applying pressure to her blood-soaked dressing, and realized she was crying. She refused to move or make a sound, but her tears betrayed her. He reached up and wiped her cheeks gently with his thumb.
"It's okay. Whatever happens here, stays here. I've got you Carter."
She turned towards him and laid her head on his chest. She drew in shuddering breaths while he rubbed her back soothingly. She coughed.
"You okay?"
A minute passed before she responded.
"Fraiser's going to have a field day with us," She said softly.
"Ya think?"
After 10 minutes, he felt her relax. Her breathing slowed and her muscles went limp. She had fallen asleep, her body draped limply over his. He gently cradled her neck and repositioned her head so he could move her.
He slowly and carefully scooted away from the mess on the floor to a new spot on the back wall. It was pitch dark and he didn't want to risk waking her by turning on the light, so he laid her down gently and then drug himself back to find the med kit he'd left behind. He used the canteen again to wash her sick out of their cave until finally settling in beside her to keep watch.
Carter woke several more times throughout the night. She would start moaning in her sleep, clutching at her stomach, and then wake up horribly nauseous. He supported her each time as she whimpered and dry heaved, straining her stitches.
He waited until she was asleep again before checking under her dressing. Remarkably, all the stitches were still intact.
Not for long, he thought grimly.
A/N: Carter's comment about Swiss cheese comes from something called the Swiss cheese model, used for accident prevention in aviation, healthcare, and the military. I won't explain the whole thing here, but essentially each safety precaution you have in place has a certain number of "holes" in it. Eventually, all the holes in your precautions, or slices of cheese, will align and disaster will happen. The holes in the Swiss recently aligned for me and my backpacking crew when we found ourselves on a four mile hike with one full water bottle between us, and no way to filter more. A series of at least four small mistakes resulted in the situation, and it wasn't one particular person's fault. That's what has happened to Jack and Sam.
Please review with more (constructive) criticism!