Paperwork.

I hate paperwork.

I had not even considered what went with the job of 2IC of the Stargate project until I had accepted, and now it is too late.

Sure, I like to keep tabs on what was going on, but do they have to tell me in triplicate? Couldn’t they just e-mail me?

Oh Jack, you’re getting old and gray and when you die, they will quite literally bury you in this paperwork.

I look at my watch. Woah, where had the evening gone? No wonder I’m hungry. Suddenly the thought of a large Pizza and a crisp beer to follow seemed a hell of a lot more fun than this.

I throw my pen against the wall with a satisfying thwack. Time to play hooky.

The entire base seems to be asleep, although I knew this impression to be deceptive. Just because it is late night in the middle of winter here at the base definitely didn’t hold true for other planets.

The stack of reports had told me that we had four teams offworld, SG9, 11 and SG3, with Teal’c tagging along for something to do. I smile to myself, remembering Major Ferretti complaining, for a token two seconds, before agreeing to take him along. Teal’c is a formidable warrior to have on your team, especially when the chips are down. I wish them well, wherever they are in the galaxy, but right now, Colonel Jack O’Neill is going home.

I nod to the guards, looking like Eskimos in their woolen parkas, and step out into the clear night, only to stop dead. Damn, it was cold, but what a still night it had turned out to be.

I lean back and look up, checking for snow clouds.

Nope.

It had snowed recently but now there isn’t a cloud to be seen, just the most amazing vista of stars. Hmm been to that one, and that one…

Grinning, I climb into my truck and start the engine to warm up.

Pizza, maybe not beer, I’m too cold for beer. Pizza and coffee. That sounded better. I put the truck into reverse with a 'clunk' - I really must remember to do something about that -  start to reverse, and damn near run over Daniel.

" DANIEL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

That was close. I decide to ignore a furiously yelling Jack O’Neill for the moment, rather concentrate my efforts in carefully picking myself up from this deep drift of snow.

Now where has that copy of Anthropology Today gone? Ah, here it is. Ok, now to face my friend. Boy, he looks pissed off.

"Hi Jack. Going my way?"

"No."

"Liar." He was going my way, sort of. He is now. It’s freezing out here, so I calmly climb into the passenger side, trying not to have my teeth chatter too much. That’s the problem with working so far underground, one never quite gets the clothing right. I notice that Jack is dressed as lightly as I am.

" Daniel?"

How can this man say just my name and make it sound like a command? I tried to emulate his easy command style once. Not a soul listened to me. He on the other hand says one word and everyone jumps.

" I need a lift. My battery’s dead." I point vaguely deep into the nearly empty parking lot.

"We could jump start it you know." Typical Jack O’Neill, Boy Scout.

" No thanks Jack. In case you hadn’t noticed, its a trillion degrees below freezing, and after midnight."

He snorted quietly, agreeing, much to my relief.

" Danny boy, you need a truck like mine. Just the thing for these windy twisty roads down from the base. That piece of Chinese junk is going to give you endless problems."

I would have replied, but he slowly pulled out of the parking lot, and I didn’t quite know where I had put my ID tag, essential for exiting this place. It was a relief to find it still attached to my BDU’s, where it should be.

I ignored his amused expression. So what if I am considered scatterbrained? I am a scientist, a linguist. A doctor of languages who has used my knowledge to save his sorry butt plenty of times.

My wandering hands had found a treasure of sorts, lying between the seats, a brand new cell phone.

" They pay you too much, " I mutter jealously. Jack just grins, a happy smile of a kid with a new toy.

"Danny, it’s got all the new bells and whistles. The moment I saw it I couldn’t resist. The salesperson swears that it’ll work anywhere. I think I'll test it from somewhere like Abydos, and then, if it doesn’t work, I’ll sue."

I grunt, ignoring his broad smile. " Don’t suggest that. They’ll want to send out a technician to check on the local cell transmitters, and that could cause problems."

He laughs, his face relaxed in the reflected headlights. " No kidding."

The guard at the gate is thorough as usual.

"Colonel, Dr Jackson. Be aware of snowdrifts on the way down sirs. Things are a little unstable out there."

I lean forwards in surprise, but Jack nods his thanks and guns the engine.

" Snow drifts, here?"

He flicks his eyes sideways for a moment. "Happens. We are after all quite high up. The trees stop most of it though."

I nod and say nothing further, aware of him struggling to keep the truck straight on the icy road. I’m glad that he’s taking me home. I won’t admit it, but he right, my little car would find this hard going.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I’m glad Daniel has shut up, this is taking all my powers of concentration.

Actually, I’m glad for the companionship, glad that he is here. The thought of him driving that tiny car through this sends chills through me. The road is full of ice and I feel the truck swerve and skitter.

The going is treacherous and I gear down.

" I could probably skate on this," I muse. I hear Daniel grunt in agreement, not speaking, allowing me to concentrate on the road ahead, a true friend with a well-honed survival instinct, just like me.

He wants to get home in one piece too. If the road is this bad tomorrow, I’m not coming in.

If they are that desperate to get me, they can fly me in. This is the Air Force after all.

I’m sure they have a helicopter stashed away somewhere for emergencies.

" Danny?"

" Yeah?" He doesn’t even look at me.

"If it’s like this tomorrow, I’m staying home."

His grin was white in the darkness. " Well, if my commanding officer says so..."

That’s where it ended. One minute Daniel is talking to me, the next, nothing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Cold.

The first thing I hear when I came to was someone moaning. It took a while for me to realize that I was making the sound, and shut up.

What the hell had happened? I struggle to remember as I grope for my glasses. The road.

Oh God. Jack.

My bumbling hands encounter thin metal and I perch my glasses back on my nose, remember to click on the tiny light, and turn to look at Jack.

Oh God.

He’s lying crumpled against his door, silent, unmoving, dark blood frozen to the window next to his head.

" Jack!"

I furiously unbuckle my seatbelt and crawl to him, unmindful as to whether I myself were hurt.

Jack is more important. Jack is my friend, my only friend. Moreover, he’s hurt.

"Jack!"

He isn’t responding to my calls but thankfully I feel a pulse, weak, but there.

Oh God, I find myself crying, leaning against my unconscious friend, shivering uncontrollably. One part of my mind knows that I’m in shock but I can’t help myself.

Gradually my heart slows and I begin to take stock of our situation.

Wood splinters give me the first clue as to what had happened.

Somehow a tree had struck us.

However, we are no longer on the road. Ah, we rolled.

Quite a few times obviously from the looks of things. A sense of unreality steals over me as I look up at the thick canopy of trees overhead.

How can we get into trouble here on Earth?

On other planets, sure, but here on Earth?

This isn’t fair.

Slowly I reach for my collar mike.

Sam and Teal’c will come and rescue us, take us through the wormhole and to Dr Fraiser.

Then reality once more snaps in.

Oh God, come on Jackson.

Your friend needs you.

Once more I look at him.

How come he is always the one to get hurt when we are together, never me?

Ok, that’s not always true, but most times.

Suddenly I am shuddering with cold, and want to go home.

Things kind of seem to fade in and out and I’m beginning to worry.

If we aren’t found soon we won’t be found alive.

Then a blessed sound.

Somewhere in this wreck is Jack’s cell phone, and it is ringing.

My hands are frantic.

I vaguely notice that they are full of blood. Blood? Am I hurt? I’m too numb to notice, events still too fresh to even feel pain.

Then I feel metal, between the seats.

Whoever it was has rung off, some time ago, I think, but I have our salvation here, in my hands.

I pull back from Jack, careful not to jolt him. He looks bad.

I’m afraid that he is going to die. I can’t help the tears, but they hurt when they freeze to my face.

Let me press buttons. Tiny buttons.

I suppress a sniffle. I have never used his cell phone before and I am unsure what I am doing. It looks complicated...

Suddenly a voice explodes from the tiny speaker, almost making me drop it in surprise. My cell phone doesn’t do that.

" Hammond."

Oh. Of course. Of course Jack would have the Generals number pre -programmed into the phone.

" Colonel? Jack, Is that you?" I try to answer but my teeth are chattering uncontrollably.

No this is not Jack, but he could sure use your help General. We both could.

" Hurt."

"Who is this?" His voice is clipped, annoyed, the voice of a busy man.

" Jjjaac.." I’m trying so hard, but it is so cold.

" Daniel?" Halleluiah.

" Es."

" What’s wrong? Where’s Colonel O’Neill?"

Here General sir. Next to me, dying.

I try again.

" Hurt."

Me too, General sir. I feel kinda strange, and I see sparkles out of the corners of my eyes.

"Where are you son?"

I try to answer, but my juddering fingers can no longer hold onto the small phone and it slips between my fingers to fall on the floor.

I’m feeling warm now, and I have one hell of a headache.

All I want to do is sleep, like Jack.

Only I want to sleep better than he is. His breathing is kinda noisy. I wish he would shut up.

I would shake him awake if only I could reach him.

Unfortunately, I can’t. He is on the other side of the planet.

Never mind, I’ll sleep anyway.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

There I was, just about to have him do some serious sexual damage to my body when the phone rang.

" Wha?" The only lovers I have nowadays are situated in my dreams, and even they are interrupted constantly.

I fumble for the phone whilst simultaneously looking at the clock - 03:32.

Dammit, this better be important. It is.

" Carter?" I sit bolt upright, like I have been prodded with a Gua’old pain stick.

The General never, ever phones me at home.

" Sir?"

" Are Colonel O’Neill and Dr Jackson at your place at all?"

Huh? I swallow back yet another question, my tired brain slowly beginning to figure out something.

If the General is trying me, then they can’t be found.

I am definitely not No 1 on the list of people to phone to find errant Colonels and Doctors.

At least, I hope not.

" No sir. Sir, is something wrong?"

He sighs.

"I hope not. Its just that I had a very unusual phone call from what sounded like a drunk Dr Jackson using Colonel O’Neill’s cell phone and now I can’t seem to contact them at all."

I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This is not good.

" He’s not at home?" I tried to make the question a statement, not give offence, but the General hardly seems to notice.

" No, neither of them are, neither are they on base. They checked through the gate security just after midnight and haven’t been seen since."

Briefly, I thought of Isabella’s Tavern but they were long shut. Besides, Gloria would have phoned me here or at the base if anything bad had happened.

No, this was serious.

" Sir. We might have a problem."

His deep sigh confirms it.

" So I believe, Major. Report to the base at 04H00 to join the search party."

His voice is grim.

I’m outside and in my car ten minutes later.

Being an air force brat has some uses, I can be ready within minutes, and besides, my friends are out there, somewhere.

The thought of one of them phoning up the General as a cheap drunken prank doesn’t even cross my mind. Colonel O’Neill will never allow himself get that motherless; some of his skeletons might show.

The base is a hive of activity when I arrived; all centered around one short rotund man, General Hammond.

He gives me a small smile when he sees me. "Major, good timing. Take SG8 and walk down the access road. All the other SG teams will comb the most direct routes between here and Colonel O’Neill and Dr Jackson’s homes."

It was a clear indication as to how much the General holds the Stargate personnel in high esteem that he is willing to suspend the entire Stargate program in order to find two missing members. Ok, the fact that one of them is Colonel Jack O’Neill helps as well.

I call my team to order. All look sleepy and cold, feelings that I emphasize with.

" Ok gang, Behrens, Michaels and Tyler, take the left hand side of the road. I and Captain Warren will take the right hand side."

The downward slope.

Greg Warren catches my eye for a moment. He knows. If they are down there than they are in a whole heap of trouble.

The job is cold and tedious, walking down a dark ice filled road in the early hours of the morning, but nobody complains.

We have all had our butts saved by the sheer hard work of our colleagues at one point or another.

Now it was payback time, again, so no one grumbles.

Michaels spots it first.

An area where a tree has been uprooted by the drifting snow.

What he finds suspicious is the fact that the tree is no longer there, just shards of bark and chunks of wood, like the tree has hit something.

Like a vehicle perhaps.

When I find the glass covering the road, my heart sinks.

We have found them.

Warren is on the radio immediately, murmuring urgently to the General as I figure on how to get down there without risking my own life and limb.

Nothing doing, it is just too steep, the shadows too dark.

If I hadn’t seen the glass embedded in the road, I would never have believed that there’s a vehicle down there at all.

"Colonel O’Neill, Daniel, can you hear me?" I yell.

My voice seems puny against the vast mountainside.

There is no reply.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sam? I could swear that Sam is calling my name.

" Sam." My voice is a harsh croak.

I am going to have to do better than that, no matter how much my voice seems to echo round in my skull.

I am going to have to do better for Jack. He still hasn’t moved and looks dead in the failing car light.

Only his harsh breathing tells me that he is still alive.

At least I feel somewhat better. My probing hands have told me that I took one nasty crack to the skull, but that sick light-headed feeling has passed.

Ok, Jackson, this is it. I draw in a deep breath.

"SAM."

The reply is faint but so full of good news

"HANG IN, WE’RE COMING."

But I know that they don’t have much time.

"HURRY. JACK’S HURT BAD."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

"SAM"

The relief is almost palatable at Daniel’s weak reply.

Ok, we still have a lot to do, but at least we are looking in the right place. We are all grinning like hyenas when I cup my hand to my mouth again.

"HANG IN, WE’RE COMING."

Then Daniel yells the kicker.

"HURRY. JACK’S HURT BAD."

Ah shit, the Colonel again.

Colonel O’Neill once confided in me that he thought he was a hurt magnet.

He gave a rueful shrug and told me that if anyone were going to be hurt on the mission, it would invariably be him.

Oh sure, SG1 is a first contact team, and as such someone always seems to be hurt sometime during a mission.

It’s just that usually it is he.

I remember thinking nothing of it, brushing him off by telling him that they always shoot the leader first, causing him to grin.

Now I’m not so sure.

Why him? Why his particular vehicle at that particular moment?

The other teams arriving at that instant pull me away from deep introspection.

I step aside. I ache to go down there and offer words of comfort, but I am not qualified in abseiling down mountainous paths, nor am I a paramedic.

All I can do is watch quietly from the sidelines as the relevant SG teams spring flawlessly into action.

Within minutes, they are roped up and ready to go.

I give one last shout.

"DANIEL, RESCUE TEAMS ARE ON THE WAY."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Thank God.

I am getting seriously worried about hypothermia, because I should be shivering, and so should Jack.

It’s not that warm in here.

Oh sure, its better than the outside air, but I distinctly remember shivering badly at one time and now I’m not.

I wish that I could move Jack away from that window. Nevertheless, I won’t.

Even when I was sobbing, having lost it, I distinctly remember obeying what I was taught.

Always remember the three B’s - Breathing, Bleeding and Bones.

I haven’t been conscious enough to do anything to help my friend, but now I can, by leaving him alone.

Despite the warning, I jump as the first rescuer slides to a halt next to me.

" Dr Jackson?"

I bite back a caustic reply, being near Jack does that to me, but really, two people, one is wearing eagles, and one isn’t. Go figure.

Suddenly another person arrives, then another.

I’m not offended when Colonel O’Neill immediately becomes the focus of their attention.

What worries me is the deep groaning sound I hear when one of the airman leans inside.

" Uh, Guys, just how secure is this truck?"

Apparently not at all.

All three men leap back like they’re being electrified and go into a huddle.

Having nothing better to do, I wait patiently.

Then a decision is reached.

Smiling reassuringly, someone pushes a blanket through my window with instructions to cover up Colonel O’Neill.

I would have done so with pleasure, but it was then that I discover that my arm is broken.

Strange what shock and extreme cold could do to a person.

I manage as well as I could before accepting another blanket for myself gratefully.

It’s then that they tell me what they intend to do.

" OH SHIT, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I frown at Daniels outraged voice. Just what do they propose to do that has Daniel so worked up?

I slowly make my way to the General, spotlighted in the arc lamps someone has set up.

He will know.

"General?"

He looks as wasted as I feel.

"Major. The paramedics say that they can’t work on Colonel O’Neill and Dr Jackson down there."

He huffs thoughtfully.

"They are proposing that we pull the vehicle back up to the road."

Oh God. With them still in it?

I feel horrified, and draw on all of my military training to stay objective.

"Will it work sir? Or will it be more traumatic to Colonel O’Neill and Dr Jackson?"

" SG10 have gone down to assess that Major. We’ll know in a moment."

I’m sure this moment is turning into one of the longest moments of my life.

Eventually I hear the clanking of a chain being attached to one of the Jeeps.

Major Fowler, SG10’s commanding officer, chain in hand, then disappears down the slope like he’s a mountain goat.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Ah it is the sandy-haired commander of SG10, the one that tried to hit on Major Carter, got shot down, and then made allegations about her sexual preferences in the staff canteen when she wasn’t around.

Unfortunately for him, Teal’c was.

They let him out of the infirmary after two days with strict instructions to stay out of Teal’c’s way for a while.

I haven’t seen him for ages; he must have taken things to heart.

His grin is reassuring as he gently ties the chain to the truck, but it won’t hurt to enforce some caution.

What is his name, Bower, no Fowler.

" Fowler." My voice is weak, frightening me, but he hears.

" Yes Dr Jackson?"

" You fuck up and Teal’c’s life debt comes into play."

I don’t usually swear, I believe that it cheapens a beautiful language, but some times one has no choice.

" Life debt?" His eyes are huge in the gloom

I try to nod - hard, and try to keep a straight face - even harder.

" Yes, life debt. With Colonel O’Neill. He dies and Teal’c kills you. Slowly."

He moves away with a snort, but I think that he’s being a tad gentler than he was.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The paramedics are worried, and have gone to consult with Dr Fraiser.

Apparently, they are worried about Colonel O’Neill, he still has not regained consciousness, and it has been hours now.

Dawn is beginning to streak the far horizon and everyone has been told to stand down until we have enough natural light.

This is worrying the paramedics and Janet, because they can’t treat Colonel O’Neill properly in the situation that he is in.

It seems he has a worrying head injury and both legs are broken.

It’s cold out here, cold and harsh.

I huddle in my thick jacket, glad for the warmth, and then wonder with a sickening feeling if Daniel and the Colonel are warm enough.

There is nothing I can do, and flogging myself by thinking about it does me more harm than good.

I swear that sounds like advice straight from the Colonel.

Someone, Fowler, offers me a cup of coffee. He looks distracted, something for which I am very grateful.

Him mooning over me again is not what I want right now.

I just want the rest of SG1 back.

Then the sun sends its first rays over the far hills and we are a go.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I was asleep.

How I managed that with my constant shivering I don’t know, but somehow I did.

The blankets have proved to be more of a curse than a blessing.

I went from being somewhat okay about the cold to very aware of it.

Even Jack is racked occasionally by shivering, but he still doesn’t awaken.

Someone has managed to attach an IV line to him.

How they managed that I have no idea.

Suddenly the truck gives a slight jerk and my heart freezes. Then another.

They are moving us.

I jump in fright as one of the soldiers moves into view.

Seeing me, he gives a wave of encouragement.

The ascent is slow, but gradual, seeming to take ages.

I feel my eyes getting heavy and give in to the drowsiness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The whole job took thirty-three minutes, from the winch taking up the slack to seeing Colonel O’Neill’s truck appear over the ridge and gently eased onto the road.

I swear I went grayer than Colonel O’Neill in that time, only the blonde doesn’t show it.

And when I saw his truck I went white.

It was upright, sort of.

A mangled sorry mess with one entire side stove in, where the tree hit them I guess.

I can clearly see both men inside, and both appear to be unconscious. Then Janet and the paramedics obscure my view.

There‘s a sharp crack as someone uses the Jaws of Life on the side of the truck, causing most of us to dive to the ground, then to laugh in embarrassment.

We all stay, like ghouls, watching as the Colonels still form is finally released from his steel cage, then Daniel Jackson.

Only then do people leave.

Once the ambulance wheels around and heads to Academy General, I realize that things are extremely serious.

If all they had were broken bones, Janet would handle them at the base.

I stand at the side of the road, watching the retreating lights, feeling helpless, until the General beckons to me.

" Come Major, lets go."

God bless intuitive Generals.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I’m warm.

For the first time in years, I am warm.

I want to snuggle but somehow I can’t just seem to get my body to work.

I moan in frustration.

All of the sudden there are people shouting at me, demanding that I wake up.

However, I am too tired.

It’s usually quite companionable, being stuck in the waiting room of Academy General Hospital with General Hammond.

He is actually a great conversationalist, a funny man.

Not today.

Today we stare morosely out of our room, through tiny windows, waiting impatiently for Dr Fraiser to give us news, any news.

Centuries later she appears, looking tired. Hammond is instantly on his feet.

" Prognosis, Doctor?"

"Sir, the Colonel had both legs broken at the shins, had three ribs cracked and has a fractured skull.

My heart is in my mouth, but General Hammond asks the next question.

" When can we speak to him?"

She shakes her head, looking helpless. " I wish I could say sir. It depends on how bad the skull fracture proves to be."

She looks grim.

" So far the brain isn’t showing too much swelling, maybe due to the hypothermia experienced, but we do expect some."

She shrugs, " I’m afraid I can’t give you a good assessment of his condition yet."

Hammond looks upset.

" Has he woken up at all?"

She shakes her head with a distracted air. "No sir. And that in itself is worrying."

" What about Doctor Jackson?"

It is with relief that I see her smile.

" He’s going to be OK. He has a broken arm and concussion, but he’ll be fine."

I lean back in my chair with a groan.

Thank God. One injured member of SG1 I can handle, but not two.

" Can we see them?" I try to make my voice as plaintive as possible, and it works.

"OK, ten minutes."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Oh boy, my head hurts, and my arm.

I should be sleeping, but I fight off the effects of the drug.

In a few minutes, when I feel stronger, I am going to get out of this bed and find Jack.

I must know how he is.

No one will tell me and the lack of information is driving me crazy.

Then the door opens softly and I see Sam and the General.

" Sam." She takes two strides and enfolds me in a bear hug.

" Jack. Is Jack OK?" My heart plummets when she shakes her head.

" We don’t know yet." She rocks me gently, and I let her. She seems traumatized, so does the General, sitting quietly on the chair next to my bed.

" Sam?"

She seems on the edge of tears.

" Danny, he looks awful. Both legs are in plaster, and Janet has him in a drug induced coma because she’s worried about swelling on the brain."

I try to think of something cheerful to say, but can only think of one.

" Sam, he has had worse things happen to him than this, and he’s survived. He’ll do it again."

She reluctantly pulls away, and I lay back.

" You’re right Daniel, he has. It’s just that this time..." She sniffs, alarming me.

I stare at them silently for a moment, wondering about their unusual attitude, before something that Jack had said months ago tickled my consciousness.

We had been sat on his porch one warm evening, drinking something pleasant and dangerously alcoholic that tasted just like orange juice.

He had been reflecting on life in general, as he sometimes did when he got mellow, when to my surprise he mentioned his time in jail.

He had said that they had been forced to watch other people being deliberately injured, and how that had been always more traumatic than being the one they were hurting.

When I had gently probed for more information, he had clammed up, and nothing more was said.

Now, seeing the General and Sam’s faces, I finally understood what Jack meant.

They were hurting.

They had been witness to the finding, treating and subsequent rescue of two of their friends, and they were suffering the effects.

" Hey." I reach out and grab her hand. " He’ll be fine, if a bit disorientated."

They both looked puzzled. " How so?" General Hammond asked, his Texan accent somehow seeming more prominent than usual in my small hospital room.

" He never saw it coming. The tree I mean. Neither of us did. It was on us like an express train, knocking the truck and tossing us down the mountain before we could take our next breath."

I looked at Sam and the General, missing Teal’c with an acute pang for a moment.

" And your point is?" Hammond asks impatiently.

" Oh yes, well, you know Jack. He stares death in the face on a regular basis, and survives. Well, this time death blindsided him. He never saw it coming."

I hesitate for a moment, thinking.

" Now, I’m pretty sure that he’ll survive, he’s too ugly not to, but he’s going to have his confidence that he can handle everything shaken up a bit."

" And that’s a bad thing?" Sam asks.

" Yes." General Hammond nods at me, his face respectful.

If I wasn’t feeling so awful I swear that I would have turned a bright red.

" Doctor Jackson is right. Colonel O’Neill and I are very similar in many ways, the same background in the armed forces etcetera, but with one vast difference - Colonel O’Neill was once incarcerated against his will."

To my intense annoyance, he doesn’t elaborate.

" This incarceration has an indelible effect on his, I guess, psyche. From what people have told me about him, I am led to understand that before Ira…it happened, he was a happy soul. A dangerous one to be sure, nevertheless, a happy soul with a loving wife and a child to come home to."

He hesitates for a moment, looking uncomfortable about his revelations before obviously deciding we have a right to know what makes our C.O. tick.

"Afterwards, well, you know the afterwards. He turned into the man he is today, a sarcastic and intensely driven man. One totally aware of his situation and destiny."

" Who just happens to speak fluent Arabic?" I ask, but General Hammond doesn’t bite.

" This man suddenly had a tree shoved up his ass, one that he didn’t even realize was coming his way. This is going to have serious repercussions on him, mark my words."

He leans back in that silly hospital chair and regards me from under heavy eyelids. " So, what do you suggest we do Doctor Jackson? Send him to Doctor MacKenzie?"

" God no."

Sam looks nonplussed about her instinctive outburst.

" Ah, God no, Sir," she stresses.

" Colonel O’Neill stated a long time ago that he would have nothing to do with that particular psychiatrist."

She looks at her boots.

" Sir, he once said that if anybody placed him, Doc MacKenzie and myself in the same room together he would show me how to kill a man in two point seven seconds. And I don’t think he was joking sir," she whispers.

General Hammond frowns, studiously ignoring my horrified face, I’m sure.

" You’re probably right Major, I wouldn’t put such a thing past our Colonel at all.

This leaves us in more of a quandary. How do we ascertain his mental health?"

" Carefully," I say softly, getting two knowing nods in return.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I won’t tell them, but I’m getting a bit worried about our dear Colonel. He isn’t responding as well he should.

As expected with such a severe head trauma, there was swelling on the brain, vindicating our actions so far.

This was expected.

In fact the neurology department seem pleased that he is once more a textbook case for severe head trauma.

However, they don’t know what I know, that Jack O’Neill is a fast healer.

He should be better than he is.

In my book, he should have regained consciousness by now.

I know that the General and SG1 understand my concern, and understand my desire to have him moved to the SGC infirmary.

This man needs constant supervision, and dare I say it, constant care. He needs to know we are there for him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

" Shit, and triple shit."

I punch the bag so hard I almost tear it loose, not that I care a whit. I just don’t care anymore.

How can I care about anything when the Colonel is lying pale and still in the infirmary?

Damn it all to hell, he deserves better than this.

Teal’c walks into the gym, and our eyes meet. His expression is guarded, but his eyes tell volumes, there is no change.

" Shit."

Again, I punch the bag, uncaring as to who hears my outburst.

It is now the end of week three, and the Colonel still has not regained consciousness.

Janet says that he will recover in his own time, but I sense a new emotion permeating her reassuring smile.

Despair.

Not that I can blame her. If he doesn’t wake up soon, she will be duty bound to send him to a center dedicated to coma patients, something none of us want.

" Major Carter," Teal’c says calmly, holding onto the misused bag. " I may have a solution to O’Neill’s…situation.

" Oh?" A suggestion from Teal’c is usually worth listening to. Hell, any suggestion when it comes to the Colonel is worth listening to.

He nods. " I propose that we call in the Tok’ra, Aldwyn and Martouf especially."

His face is grave, but his eyes are alight with the fire of battle.

Colonel O’Neill is his friend too.

" Why?" I ask, although deep down I know his suggestion is a sound one.

" I believe, out of all the Tok’ra, O’Neill hates them the most. He finds their sereneness irritating and their smugness annoying. I believe that if they were summoned to O’Neill’s sick bed, he would have no choice but to recover extremely quickly."

" If for no other reason than to punch their lights out," I say with a laugh, pleased that Teal’c does not ask for a translation.

He is getting better with time.

It is their rhythm of talking that I notice first, more so than the actual words. They have a unique almost staccato way of speaking unheard of on any continent on earth, even when they speak English.

At first I was content to just lie and listen to them talk, knowing that where there are Tok’ra, there are usually humans, and usually the humans in question are members of SG1.

Finally it occurs to me that there are no other voices to be heard at all, just the smug self-satisfied voices of Martouf and a female, probably Anise.

Two Tok’ra alone in the SGC? That worries the crap out of me. Usually the only time anyone of them is alone is when they are taking a dump. What the hell is Hammond thinking of?

" Doctor, O’Neill is waking up."

The sharp sound of heels on Air Force linoleum is a familiar sound.

Doc Fraiser.

" You’re quite right, Anise." Her voice is tight with relief.

" We will leave now," Martouf said, and then hesitates. " Unless you feel that O’Neill still needs protecting?"

That got me. Protecting? From what? Myself?

I can’t wake up fast enough. The slimy scheming holier-than-thou snakeheads…

The room is blinding, but I don’t care, I have only eyes for two distinct shapes sat perched on chairs on each side of my bed.

" Out."

"You should have seen their faces. Martouf looked like he had swallowed a snail, or something equally as disgusting." I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes; still suffused with mirth hours after the two disgruntled Tok’ra had headed home, wherever that might be nowadays."

"That’s all he said, 'Out.' "

"Then he just lay back in bed, totally unconscious again like before, but with a self-satisfied smile on his face that boded well for the future."

" His outburst does not help cement Human Tok’ra relations though, does it, Doctor?" Hammond says, his face grave.

Unfortunately for him, his eyes give him away. They are as amused as everyone else around this mess room table, including Teal’c’s.

"No it doesn’t," I say gravely, although I’m pretty sure that we can be forgiven in this instance. Patients who have been deep comas have always said confusing things upon awakening. Colonel Jack O’Neill is no exception.

" Let’s hope the Tok’ra see things your way," General Hammond said, placing his coffee mug back down on the table with a thunk. " If they don’t…"

" They will sir," Sam says serenely from her side of the table. " I had a quick word with Martouf before the wormhole formed, explaining that there was no real malice intended, and he agreed. Strangely enough, he was just as amused as our dear doctor here.

Apparently, Colonel O’Neill made quite a sight, sitting bolt upright like he did. According to Martouf, Anise got such a shock that she fell out of her chair - a lack of composure that Martouf himself had been waiting for more than fifty years to see."

" Wonderful, I hope Jack saw it happen," Daniel says, only I shake my head sadly.

" Sorry Daniel. He was only awake for a brief amount of time. Just long enough for him to tell them to go to hell. Even then, I really don’t think he actually saw them, merely working on instinct alone."

"The Tau’ri item called a camera, however, never sleeps," Teal’c says, rising to his feet.

"There may yet be a way of showing O’Neill what transpired."

Hammond nods to him. " Go and find out, Teal’c."

No sooner had he gone, than Daniel turns his attention to me.

" So now what?" he asks.

" We let him sleep," I reply, brushing his arm gently to emphasize the point. "This time he is just asleep, nothing more. When he wants to awaken, he will."

Daniel sighs, looking disappointed. They all are, even the General.

" Just give him time."

My mouth feels gooey, with the unpleasant taste that tells me that I have been unconscious for quite some time. I lie quiet and still, aware that the attendant nurse is aware that I am awake and has pressed the call button next to my bed. So be it. They will all just have to wait until I have things straight in my mind. At the moment, all I can recall is a confusing mish-mash of images, starting with my truck and ending with…a…a Tok’ra?

" Colonel. How are you feeling?"

I glare up at her, wondering for the hundredth time why she bothers asking.

"Fine."

My stock answer comes out as a high-pitched squeak, making her smile. "Here, have some water. She lifts the head of my bed and sticks a straw into my mouth. The water is wonderful, making me feel alive again. Kinda.

" Do you remember what happened? She asks gently, her eyes flickering over my shoulder at someone else.

I was remembering in tiny bits and bytes, and what I was recalling was distressing me.

" I tried to control the truck, but the road down was too icy."

My heart clenched.

"Daniel."

I stared up at her imploringly, feeling my heart race. " I gave him a lift, and then lost control of the truck. I remember it…the steering wheel juddering in my hands. I tried…"

I struggled to draw in a breath, feeling frozen deep inside as memories assaulted me all at once.

" I remember glass smashing, Daniel yelling, and…nothing else.

I stare up at her, standing so still, and I fear the worse.

" He’s dead, isn’t he?"

A familiar voice answers me from the other side of the bed. " He’s fine, Colonel, as are you."

I slowly turn my head to see Doc MacKenzie standing there. I have never liked the shrink, but now I could kiss him.

"You positive?"

His expression is smug, but his eyes are kind, making me reassess the man.

"You hit a tree, which K.O’d you instantly. There are residual fears still present, and the whole issue of your helplessness will have to be addressed, but besides that, I’m satisfied."

To hell with me. I wasn’t talking about me.

" Danny’s okay?" I ask Fraiser.

Her smile is like sunshine.

" Sure. Let me call them in."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I try to hide my shock, unsuccessfully, it seems from Sam’s quick sideways glance. But how in the world am I able to maintain an impassive face when my friend looks like…hell.

" Jack?"

He opens his eyes and just stares at us for a moment, then it’s almost as if his brain suddenly clicks on and he smiles.

" Daniel." His voice is soft and thready, nowhere near the tough C.O. of SG1.

"The snakehead greeting committee your idea?"

Now that is more like the gritty leader I know.

" Sorry Jack. That idea is the sole property of one Major Samantha Carter.

" Gee, thanks Carter."

" My pleasure sir."

I take a moment to look at my friend as he and Carter talk softly. A month of unconsciousness has changed him. There are shadows lurking at the back of those dark brown eyes, the same shadows that Neville MacKenzie has worked so hard to eradicate in me. Still, the fear of dying on earth, of watching Jack die here…it still haunts me and I guess it always will. Somehow it wouldn’t seem so bad had we been offworld, but we weren’t.

Now he intended to work on Jack, and I wished him well. I still think that he would have more success in tying a yellow ribbon to a Doberman’s tail, but who am I to argue?"

" Earth to Daniel," he says softly, a faint smile on his face. " You okay?"

Visions of glass, bloodied snow, and my helplessness, flit through my mind for a nanosecond before I stiffen my spine and ruthlessly suppress them.

That was then, this is now.

I nod. " I am."

* EINDE

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