Dr. Rodney McKay's lab in Atlantis was a breathtaking testament to his genius and frenetic energy, a place that would leave any visitor spellbound. The expansive room was a symphony of advanced technology, mainly in various repair, dissection, or repurposing stages. Workbenches were a treasure trove of devices from diverse off-world missions, ancient artifacts, and an array of tools, from the familiar to the utterly alien.
Wires and cables slithered across the floor like wild serpents in a seemingly chaotic dance, a testament to the frenetic energy that permeated the lab. Monitors and screens of different sizes, each displaying a different data stream, added to the visual cacophony. The air was thick with the hum of machinery, occasionally punctuated by a piece of equipment's sharp beep or buzz.
The brilliant and often exasperating astrophysicist Rodney McKay was a whirlwind of intense activity, his movements a precise and purposeful dance. His hands were in constant, rapid motion, whether soldering a circuit, typing with a furious speed on a keyboard, or delicately adjusting a piece of ancient technology. His eyes, ablaze with unwavering focus, mirrored the intensity of his tasks, never once losing sight of the goal.
Colonel Samantha Carter, an accomplished scientist and military officer commanding the Atlantis expedition, stood near the entrance, her gaze fixed on McKay's frantic activity. A mix of admiration and mild amusement played across her features. She had witnessed similar labs before, but McKay's was in a league of its own. Her presence, a testament to her understanding and respect for his work, was a gentle reminder of her oversight, a silent acknowledgment of their shared dedication to the mission.
"Rodney, how's the Wraith research going?" Sam finally asked, her voice cutting through the ambient noise.
McKay barely glanced up from his work.
"It's... complicated," he replied, his tone both impatient and defensive. "Their technology is a unique blend of biotechnology and advanced engineering, characterized by its organic and symbiotic nature. So, complicated", he concluded.
Sam nodded, stepping closer to examine the screen he was working on.
"I know you've been working on their biotechnology, and that would be a great help," Sam said. She had no problem admitting that he had far more knowledge of the Wraith than she had.
McKay paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"Their regenerative capabilities are remarkable. They can heal from severe injuries rapidly, a trait derived from their biotechnology. Their technology often mirrors this ability, with ships and devices capable of self-repair. If we could figure that out, it would be groundbreaking," he admitted.
Sam was looking at his figures and equations.
"Maybe you should try to change this one," Sam said, pointing to a complex equation. "For something that includes the formula we already have," she offered.
They started to work side by side, their combined expertise pushing the boundaries. Sam's approach was methodical and precise, counterbalancing McKay's often frantic pace. They exchanged ideas, sometimes challenging each other's assumptions but always driving towards the same goal.
Around them, the lab continued its symphony of electronic sounds. The walls were lined with shelves holding a variety of ancient artifacts, each waiting for its turn to be deciphered and understood. A large whiteboard, covered in complex equations and hastily scribbled notes, dominated one corner of the room, a testament to the ongoing intellectual battles fought within these walls.
As she discussed a possibility with McKay, Sam's earcom told her she had an urgent message from Earth and had to report to her office.
"I've got to leave, Rodney. We'll talk later," she said as she moved toward her office.
Sheppard met her with a severe expression, and Sam's heart almost skipped a beat. When he had that face, it always meant trouble. Big, deep trouble.
"What is it?" she asked.
"You better take the call in your office, Colonel. It's about Homeworld and General O'Neill", he said carefully to avoid being heard.
Sam opened the door of her glass window office and closed it, opening her computer immediately. The connection was already established, and to her surprise, the face of General Hank Landry, CO of SGC, appeared on screen instead of the Head of Homeworld Command.
"General Landry," she said slowly.
"Colonel Carter," he started in a reserved tone.
"What's going on? Where's Jack?" she asked, her voice showing all her concern.
Landry swallowed.
"I'm afraid I don't have good news, Colonel," Landry said.
Sam grabbed her armchair tightly.
"What happened"? she asked.
General Hank Landry assumed a more detached expression as he conveyed what had happened. It was preferable when they were galaxies away.
"There was an attack on General O'Neill's car when he was leaving the Pentagon, heading home—a bomb. The security team missed it," he said.
Sam held her breath. She didn't want to ask the following question but had to.
"Is he alive?" she managed to ask.
Landry nodded.
"Yes, he's critically injured and was immediately taken to the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. He should be in surgery as we speak. I've received authorization from the President to contact you and bring you back to Earth. Sheppard will be the temporary CO of Atlantis while you are here, Colonel. So, pack your things and get here ASAP. The official version is that you'll be here for an evaluation," he said.
"Yes, Sir," Sam said, trying to hold the tears in her eyes.
The connection was cut, and Sam's screen went blank. Still looking at it, she took several deep breaths before looking up. She knew everyone was looking at her. In Atlantis, managing the city was well beyond a full-time job. It was something that had essentially consumed her life. As soon as she lifted her head, she saw John Sheppard looking at her with a concerned expression. She made him a gesture to enter, and he did, closing the door softly behind him.
"Did you know what happened?" Sam asked.
Sheppard shook his head.
"General Landry just said there had been an attack, and it was imperative to talk to you," he said.
"A bomb hit Jack's car. He's badly injured and in surgery. I'm going back to Earth right now, and you'll be in charge of Atlantis while I'm gone", Sam said tremblingly.
Sheppard cursed silently.
"I'm so sorry, Colonel," he said.
Sheppard was the only one in Atlantis who knew she was married to Jack, and she intended for that information to remain the same.
"For all purposes, I was called to Earth for an evaluation. I'm sorry to leave this in your hands, Sheppard, but I have to go", she said, already closing and packing her laptop.
"Don't worry about us, Colonel. We can manage just fine. Go home", Sheppard said in a compassionate tone.
He was shocked when Samantha Carter was put into power, but Atlantis needed a military commander when they were fighting so many enemies. He had hoped to be chosen, but with time, he had accepted the combat-ready front-line commander and brilliant scientist. He found out that she gave herself 100% of what her job required her to be, and he greatly respected her for that, even if being the commander of Atlantis was more a management job than a combat unit like SG-1.
And when she called him into his office and told him she had a personal matter to discuss, Sheppard couldn't have been more surprised when she told him she was married and not unmarried like everyone thought. And the surprise didn't end there. She married the Head of Homeworld Command, Lieutenant General Jack O'Neill. Sheppard had managed to keep a straight face and offered her his congratulations. Sam politely accepted and only asked him not to tell anyone.
"I…" Sam blinked twice, trying to gather her thoughts. "I'm going to my room to pack some essentials and then leave. Please arrange everything, John", she asked.
Sheppard knew she was on the edge as she called him by his given name without even realizing it.
"Of course. We'll be ready", he said.
Sam left for her quarters while Sheppard started preparing the Stargate to dial and connect to Earth. Given her agitation and distress, he didn't seem necessary to inform anyone about her departure, leaving little room for farewells.
As Sheppard gave the coordinates to SGC, he bid Sam farewell.
"Have a safe trip, Colonel. All the best," he wished.
Sam, with a small duffel in her hand, just nodded as the Stargate activated, emitting a swirling energy vortex. Without further delay, Sam entered the wormhole. Upon arrival at Earth's Stargate, Sam took a moment to take her bearings, but the familiar face of General Landry told her she was in the right place.
"Welcome to SGC, Colonel Carter," he said.
"Thank you, Sir," Sam said, saluting him.
"Please follow me. We are beaming directly to the Pentagon", he informed as they stepped out of the Gate Room.
"Any more news on his state?" Sam asked in a low voice.
Landry shook his head.
"The last information I have is that the surgery is continuing. They are doing all they can, Sam. The President has sent his doctor there," he said as they went to the beaming room.
Sam swallowed hard.
"I see," she said.
In seconds, they left SGC, beamed to the Apollo, and then back to the Pentagon. Sam was a little sick from all the traveling but soldiered on. Her husband needed her.
Once in the Pentagon, Sam was quickly put in a bulletproof car with an armed escort and two motorcycled police in front, directing them to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. There, she was escorted by a secondary entrance and quickly taken to the level where Jack was. She had never seen so many armed personnel inside a hospital, except for a war zone. She was told to wait next to a row of seats while a Major whose name she had already forgotten would look for a doctor.
Sam sat on one of the plastic chairs and joined her hands, looking at the floor. After what seemed an eternity, she heard her name.
"Colonel Carter?" a man asked. He was wearing a surgical gown with blue scrubs under and a surgical mask over to his neck.
"Yes", she said, getting up.
"I'm Doctor Ken Yamamoto. I'm assisting in your husband's process. Can we talk?" he asked.
Sam nodded, her heart pounding with worry for Jack. She followed Dr. Yamamoto through the maze of corridors, passing by bustling medical staff and the occasional armed guard stationed throughout the hospital. The urgency in Dr. Yamamoto's demeanor only added to her sense of apprehension.
They entered a small consultation room, where Sam sat opposite the doctor. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, trying to maintain her composure as Dr. Yamamoto began to speak.
"Colonel Carter, I understand this is a difficult time for you," Dr. Yamamoto said gently. "Your husband is currently undergoing emergency surgery to address his injuries. The blast was severe, and he sustained multiple traumas."
Sam's heart sank at the news, but she focused on the doctor's words.
"How... how is he?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Yamamoto hesitated for a moment before replying. "It's too early to say definitively. The next few hours will be critical. We're doing everything we can to stabilize him and address his injuries, but it will be a challenging road ahead."
Sam nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She had faced countless dangers and crises throughout her career, but nothing could have prepared her for the fear and uncertainty of waiting for news about Jack's condition.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Dr. Yamamoto offered her a reassuring smile.
"Right now, the best thing you can do is wait here. We'll keep you updated on his progress, and if any developments or decisions need to be made, we'll let you know."
"But can you give me more information regarding his injuries?" she asked.
The doctor started to play with a pen he had on his desk. He finally looked at her again.
"I'll try to explain his injuries as simply as possible," he said.
Sam nodded.
The doctor cleared his throat and started, "The force of the explosion was significant even for a bulletproof car. That is alone what keeps your husband alive, Colonel. A normal car wouldn't have stood a chance. So, your husband was hit by the blast wave passing through the body. In his case, he suffered a traumatic brain injury from the rapid change in air pressure. That is his most serious injury. He suffered minor cuts and bruises. Only after he recovers his conscience can we access the whiplash injuries and other forms of blunt force trauma. This can result in symptoms such as headache, dizziness, neck pain, and cognitive impairment", the doctor explained.
Sam felt her stomach churn and her heart tightening as her face paled.
"So, he can die?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
The doctor nodded.
"I won't lie to you, Colonel. The surgery on his brain is very complicated, and there's always that risk. Let's hope your husband is a fighter", he said gently.
Sam made a tentative smile.
"He is", she said.
"Do you have any question, Colonel?" Yamamoto asked.
Sam swallowed hard.
"After brain surgery, what are the most probable outcomes?" she asked. She had to be prepared.
Doctor Yamamoto took a profound sight.
"That question should be answered by the led surgeon, Colonel. But I can tell you based on what I have seen and experienced in the operating room. The outcomes of this type of brain surgery can be complex and multifaceted. They can vary widely depending on several factors, including the severity of the brain injury, the specific areas of the brain affected, the success of the surgery, and the effectiveness of post-operative care and rehabilitation", he said carefully.
"Specifics, doctor," Sam requested.
Yamamoto sighed heavily.
"Depending on the extent of the brain injury and the areas of the brain affected, individuals may experience physical impairments such as weakness, paralysis, balance problems, and coordination difficulties. Brain injuries can result in cognitive and behavioral changes, including memory, attention, concentration, problem-solving, and decision-making difficulties. Emotional and behavioral changes such as mood swings, irritability, impulsivity, and depression may also occur. This is the textbook answer. It doesn't mean it will be the result for General O'Neill", he said softly.
As Sam processed the gravity of Dr. Yamamoto's words, a wave of emotions washed over her. Fear, worry, and a deep longing for her husband consumed her thoughts. She wanted Jack by her side, alive and well, but the uncertainty of his condition weighed heavily on her heart.
"When will we know?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
Dr. Yamamoto's response offered little solace.
"After the surgery. After he wakes up," he said, his tone grave and sad.
Sam felt a knot tighten in her chest at the thought of waiting for an eternity to learn Jack's fate. She glanced up at Dr. Yamamoto, searching for any sign of reassurance or hope, but his expression remained neutral, his hands on the table.
Nodding silently, Sam turned her gaze back to the floor, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her shoulders. Yamamoto left the room to return to the operation room, and Sam was left alone with her thoughts.
As she waited for news, every passing second felt like an eternity, and her mind was filled with thoughts of Jack and the life they had built together.
In that moment of uncertainty, Sam clung to the faint glimmer of hope that Jack would pull through, that they would emerge from this crisis more vital than ever. But deep down, she knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and obstacles, and the outcome was far from certain.
With a heavy heart and a resolve to stay strong for Jack, Sam braced herself for the agonizing wait ahead, knowing that the only thing she could do was hold onto hope and pray for her husband's recovery.
Sam sat in the small, sterile waiting room for hours, her hands clasped tightly together and her eyes fixed on the floor. Time seemed to crawl, each second stretching into an eternity. She couldn't stop replaying what must have been the last moments before Jack's injury over and over in her mind. The blast, the chaos, the fear. She just wanted him back, safe and sound.
After what felt like days, the door to the waiting room opened, and Dr. Yamamoto entered again, accompanied by two other surgeons. Their faces were serious, their expressions grim. Sam's heart skipped a beat.
"Colonel Carter?" Dr. Yamamoto's voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of exhaustion.
Sam stood up quickly, her pulse racing.
"Yes. How is he? How did the surgery go?"
Dr. Yamamoto took a deep breath and motioned for Sam to sit down. She obliged, feeling her legs tremble beneath her.
"I'll let my colleague explain the details. She was the main surgeon", Dr. Yamamoto said.
Doctor Maria Martinez was a renowned neurosurgeon known for her precision, dedication, and calm demeanor under pressure. Standing at an average height, she had an athletic build that spoke to her commitment to maintaining peak physical condition, a necessity given the demanding nature of her job. Her dark hair was always neatly tied back into a bun, ensuring no stray strands could interfere with her work or breach the sterile field.
Her face was characterized by high cheekbones and expressive brown eyes that conveyed warmth and intense focus. She wore no makeup, favoring a natural look that underscored her professionalism. Despite her work's long hours and often grueling nature, she maintained a clear complexion and an air of calm assurance.
"Colonel Carter, I'm Doctor Maria Martinez. I can tell you that the surgery was complicated," Dr. Martinez began, choosing her words carefully. "General O'Neill sustained significant trauma to his brain from the blast. We encountered multiple complications during the procedure but addressed the immediate threats."
Sam swallowed hard, her mouth dry.
"So... what does that mean? Is he going to be okay?"
Dr. Martinez exchanged a glance with his colleagues before continuing.
"We were able to stabilize him, and he is currently in recovery. However, the full extent of the damage inflicted by the blast won't be clear until he wakes up."
One of the other surgeons, Dr. Michael Blake, spoke up.
"Colonel Carter, brain injuries are complex. Many variables are at play, and each patient's response is unique. While we were able to remove debris and alleviate pressure, we need to see how General O'Neill responds when he regains consciousness."
Sam nodded, struggling to keep her emotions in check. "When will that be?"
Dr. Martinez replied, "It could take a few hours or longer. The next 24 to 48 hours are critical. We'll monitor him closely for any signs of improvement or complications."
Sam felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away. "Can I see him?"
Dr. Martinez nodded.
"Of course. He's in the ICU. We'll take you to him now, but please understand that he's still under sedation and connected to various machines to monitor his condition."
Sam stood up, her resolve firm. "I understand. I need to be with him."
The doctors led her through the winding corridors of the hospital to the intensive care unit. As they approached Jack's room, the hum of machines and the sterile smell of disinfectant filled the air. Sam braced herself for what she was about to see.
When they entered the room, Sam's heart clenched. Jack lay on the bed, pale and motionless, his head wrapped in bandages. Tubes and wires connected him to various monitors, each displaying vital signs that she couldn't fully comprehend.
She had seen him hurt before during SG-1 times, but never like this. It had never been this serious. Sam sat beside him, gently taking his hand in hers.
"I'm here, Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm not going anywhere."
Dr. Yamamoto placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He's in good hands, Colonel. We're doing everything we can."
Sam nodded, her eyes never leaving Jack's face. "Thank you, Doctor. Please, help him wake up."
The doctors left the room, giving Sam the space she needed. Alone with her thoughts, Sam sat by Jack's side, praying for his recovery and clinging to the hope that, when he woke up, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead together.
As the hours stretched, time seemed to lose all meaning for Sam. She continued to sit by Jack's side, holding his hand, her mind a whirlpool of worry and hope. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the monitors was the only sound breaking the sterile silence of the ICU. She barely registered the occasional footsteps of nurses and doctors as they moved through the corridor outside Jack's room.
The hospital environment, usually a place of bustling activity, felt strangely still to Sam. The walls were a stark white, the air cool and filled with the faint scent of antiseptic. Now and then, the distant murmur of conversations or the soft clang of medical equipment echoed through the halls, a reminder of the life-saving work around her.
Security was tight, a necessary measure given the patient's high-profile nature and the circumstances of his injury. Armed guards were stationed at the entrance to the ICU and outside Jack's room, their presence a constant, silent sentinel. The tension in the air was palpable, a reminder of the ever-present threats and the precariousness of their situation.
Sam felt a profound loneliness settle over her as she waited. Despite the occasional check-ins from medical staff and the reassuring updates from Dr. Martinez and her team, the waiting was excruciating. People surrounded her, yet she felt utterly alone. The isolation was almost tangible, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest.
Her mind drifted to memories of happier times—their wedding, laughter with friends, quiet moments with Jack. She clung to these memories, using them as a lifeline to keep her grounded. Yet, the fear of an uncertain future kept intruding, shattering her moments of solace.
She lost track of how many times she checked the clock, each minute feeling like an hour. The plastic chair she sat on became increasingly uncomfortable, but she refused to move, unwilling to leave Jack's side even for a moment. She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, willing him to wake up, to give her some sign that he was still fighting.
Occasionally, a nurse would check Jack's vitals, adjust his IV, or note something on his chart. They permanently crept, offering Sam a sympathetic smile before returning to their duties. Their professionalism was a small comfort amid her turmoil.
Sam's exhaustion began to take its toll as the hours blended. She hadn't slept, eaten, or even left the room since she had arrived. The stress and fear gnawed at her, but she couldn't bring herself to care about anything other than Jack's recovery.
Eventually, Dr. Martinez returned, her expression unreadable. Sam's heart skipped a beat as she stood up, bracing herself for whatever news she had to share.
"Colonel Carter," she said softly, "General O'Neill is starting to show signs of waking up. It will still take some time, but this is a positive step."
Relief washed over Sam, though it was tempered by the knowledge that they still didn't know the full extent of Jack's injuries. She nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude and determination.
"Thank you, Doctor. Please, keep me informed."
Dr. Martinez nodded. "Of course. We'll continue to monitor him closely. In the meantime, I suggest you try to rest. You'll need your strength for when he wakes up."
Sam knew he was right, but the thought of leaving Jack's side was unbearable.
"I'll try," she promised, though she knew sleep would be elusive.
Sam settled back into her chair as Dr. Martinez left, still holding Jack's hand. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The road ahead was uncertain, but she was determined to be there for Jack, no matter what. The loneliness and fear would not break her; she would find the strength to endure, just as she always had.
Exhaustion finally began to overpower Sam's determination to stay awake. The stress of the day, the worry for Jack, and the unyielding tension had drained her physically and emotionally. Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, and sleep beckoned irresistibly despite her resolve to stay alert.
She had shifted her chair closer to Jack's bed, resting her head on the edge of the mattress while still holding his hand. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors, which had been a constant source of anxiety, began to lull her into an exhausted haze. She watched Jack's chest rise and fall, her vision blurring as fatigue took over.
Her thoughts drifted back to the countless missions they had shared, the dangers they had faced, and the moments of connection that had forged their bond and, ultimately, their love. She remembered the first time she met Jack, the sarcastic comments that masked his genuine concern, and how his eyes softened when he looked at her. She recalled the laughter, the arguments, the shared glances that spoke volumes, and the quiet moments of understanding that needed no words.
Slowly, her breathing synced with Jack's, a subconscious effort to draw comfort from his presence. She felt her muscles relax, the tension ebbing away as sleep began to claim her. Her grip on his hand loosened slightly, but she never let go completely as if to anchor herself to him even in slumber.
As Sam finally succumbed to sleep, her head rested gently on the mattress beside Jack. Her hair fanned out across the bed, starkly contrasting the white sheets and the sterile environment of the ICU. The worry lines on her face smoothed out, replaced by the tranquility of deep sleep.
The room remained quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and the occasional footsteps of nurses. The guards outside Jack's room stood vigilant, their presence a constant reminder of the security measures.
Despite the uncertainty looming over them, there was a sense of peace. Sam, a pillar of strength and resilience, finally allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She slept deeply, her body and mind seeking the rest they so desperately needed.
Hours passed, the night slowly giving way to the early morning light that began to filter through the small window. Sam remained asleep, her breathing steady and calm. For the first time since the incident, she found a brief respite from the worry and fear gripping her tightly.
Jack remained unconscious, but his vital signs showed signs of stabilization. The medical team continued their vigilant watch, ready to respond at any moment. The future was still uncertain, but that peaceful interlude showed hope.
As dawn approached, Sam stirred slightly, her mind slowly transitioning from the depths of sleep. She would soon awaken to face the challenges ahead, but for now, she rested, finding solace in the presence of the man she loved.