Unexpected Impact Inc

When you work at Cheyenne mountain - especially for the SGC - the very last thing you expect is to get into trouble before you arrive at work....Sergeant Siler finds himself in the 'hotseat' in this one!

Colonel Jack O’Neill nodded at the people in the small lobby; all waiting - like him - for one of the large elevators to take them down into the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain so they could start their respective workdays.

As usual it was a typical mixed bunch of military personnel that waited impatiently for one of the flashing lights to indicate ground floor. The people were predominately dressed in Air Force blue, Cheyenne Mountain being an Air Force base after all, but sprinkled here and there he could see a flash of khaki - even a couple of people dressed in white, although what the Navy would be doing at the Mountain was a mystery.

He absent-mindedly tapped his discarded sunglasses against his thigh as he patiently waited for his transportation, his mind already working on just how to plan the day ahead.

Today he had to oversee the monthly head-of-team meeting, a boring but necessary meeting he had set up to promote better communication between all of the SG units.

Never again did he want a SG Team visiting an unknown planet not realizing that their MRE’s weren’t packed on the MALP as they should have been because there was a long standing feud between the 2IC of that team and the leader of another, who had ordered the meals removed as a cruel means of retribution for perceived ills done to him.

The resultant fall out and subsequent court marshal had taught all on base a valuable lesson on how vital communication was, something he had taken to heart in a big way.

The meetings had started to become a queer mixture between a motivational seminar and a psychiatric course, partly due to the input of Dr’s Fraiser and McKenzie, a man he personally detested who nevertheless knew his stuff.

They had also begun to take up the whole day, something that General Hammond tolerated, even though he was not personally involved. He agreed with O’Neill that his presence would be detrimental rather than beneficial, so had left things totally in his 2IC’s capable hands.

Which was the reason why Jack was definitely going to have to delay SG 11’s trip to New Llama, or P7Y E3H that was scheduled for 15H00, he thought, surprising himself.

Hey, he actually remembered the planet’s designation without looking it up first.

He decided to spring the designation on Carter the first chance he got, assuming he managed to remember it by the time he eventually reached his office on the 25th floor. Sighing silently, he watched a car arrive with a ping. Probably not, it was a long way down, and what with all the floors that NORAD occupied resulting in the elevator stopping about half a dozen times to disgorge people, he was bound to have forgotten it way before he saw her, which really was a pity.

Swapping to the SGC elevator on the 20th floor he was welcomed by a familiar face with a mop of brown curly hair.

" Sergeant Siler," he said, standing next to the SGC’s chief technician. " Aren’t you getting out?"

" No sir, the elevator people, ‘Unexpected Impact Inc’ serviced the elevator this morning and General Hammond has delegated me to check it out."

" Oh Yessir. They’re a civilian contractor. They’ve been doing the elevators here for years."

" If they’ve been doing this for years, then why has General Hammond got you checking things out this time?" O’Neill asked after a while.

" Hmm." It was very unusual behavior for their usually placid commanding officer , making Jack resolve to ask him about it the first chance he got.

" So Siler…ugh." O’Neill never finished his sentence as the cab suddenly lurched, sending him and the couple of people still in it lurching to the floor.

Sergeant Siler was staring up at the ceiling, where tortured screeching sounds could be heard.

" Siler," O’Neill yelled over the strange moaning sound their fast ascent was generating. " Just how far down are we going?"

" Dunno sir," the pale technician screamed back. " But the emergency brakes should kick in any moment now.

" He reached into the small box situated beneath the floor indicators and pressed the red button situated there, staring at the calm Colonel.

" On the floor," O’Neill suddenly snapped. " Spread yourself out, lessening the impact on any one part of your body. "

The five people surrounding him instantly complied, conditioned for years to obey every command of a superior officer.

The man felt himself being pulled down by his ankle, until he lay spread eagled next to the Colonel.

" Pretty deep sir," Siler replied. " I don’t understand it. The emergency brakes should have come on immediately the cable snapped…"

" They didn’t. Tough." Colonel O’Neill’s face was serene, making Siler want to cry out his panic.

" Proximity brakes sir," Siler cried out exultantly." Designed to work when the cab nears the basement."

He stared at the floor indicator for a moment, but the panel had long ceased to indicate anything.

" I haven’t a clue sir, I’ve never been this deep. Suddenly he stiffened. " Too fast. Sir, we’re still going way too fast."

The Colonel nodded placidly. " I guessed as much. Lay flat Siler, and pray, along with the rest of us."

Suddenly there was a sharp 'CRACK' accompanied by tortured tearing sounds - and the world went black.

Somewhere somebody had a small fire going, he could hear the crackle of the flames. It was nice and cozy, well; it would be if someone would stop shaking his shoulder.

Suddenly everything snapped into focus. The elevator, Sergeant Siler, the crash.

Jack was aware of the relief on Siler’s face, causing him to frown. " Don’t you have other people to check on as well?" he asked softly.

Siler looked at him for a moment, his lower lip trembling, before shaking his head.

" No sir, they’re all dead." He shuddered and tried to smile, failing miserably. " The shaft spring tore through the floor and killed them."

" The shaft…" Jack shook his head, unable to follow that conversation too well, apart from the ‘killed’ bit at the end.

Jack frowned again. He really didn’t know the technician, apart from to yell for when something went wrong like the lights fusing or something, and even then he rarely got the man himself coming to see what the problem was, just his 2IC.

Not that he could ever fault him, seeing as SG1 and every SG units lives depended on his skilled hands making sure that everything ran smoothly.

Sitting up proved to be a traumatic task. Sergeant Siler had been lucky, or he just hid his injuries well, because Jack sure knew that he was destined to go nowhere else but the infirmary for a while.

" Sir, you okay?" He really wished Siler wouldn’t ask that, because he most certainly was not okay. His shoulder grated alarmingly, he definitely had a broken left leg, and most worrying of all, he had a problem catching his breath, which always meant trouble.

The man looked wretched. " I tried to sir, but no ones answering." He stared at the offending phone with an accusing expression. " I think that every cable snapped on our descent sir."

"Oh Shit," Jack groaned, closing his eyes briefly. " So no one knows that we’re down here?"

"Oh, I’m sure that they do sir, Sergeant Siler said optimistically, " and even if they don’t, the smoke from my little fire should in theory set off every smoke alarm between here and the end of the Christian world."

A thought came to mind, making Jack look at his watch. " Okay, it’s 0830, we’re officially missing. I should have started a meeting by now."

" Yessir." Siler couldn’t help but look at the older man oddly. Somehow he never saw the man as the office type.

" Hey, I do actually have to get all bureaucratic every now and then…" His voice trailed off with a grimace before he continued strongly. " And Siler, when I don’t pitch up, someone is bound to tell the General, who will in theory scour the base for me, and when I’m not found, he will send out security to check my house, and route in, just in case somebody nasty decided to either run me off the road or kidnap me, as has happened before."

" Sir?" Siler knew that he was looking at his superior with wide eyes, but really, if that happened to Colonels, then he was gonna stay a Sergeant forever.

" Don’t worry Sergeant. You’ll be fine. I just have enemies in high places. Luckily I also have friends up there as well."

"Siler, relax, or at least try to. Help is a-coming, I’m sure someone has realized you’re missing as well by now, so hang on. It’s just gonna take time, s’all."

Sergeant Siler sat back with a groan, carefully avoiding the shards of metal sticking up from the bottom of the car like jagged teeth.

" I know that sir, It’s just that you don’t look too good sir, and with the others being dead and all, well, I figure you don’t have a lot of time to spare."

O’Neill gave a bark of laughter, which turned to a gurgling cough that he quickly stifled.

He was rewarded with the man reddening. " Sorry sir, it’s just that my momma told be never to mince words." He looked down at his crossed knees. " And I don’t sir, which is why I’m still a Sergeant instead of an officer, like my friends."

There was a moment’s silence and Siler cringed, figuring he had gone too far with the brash Colonel.

Siler looked up, surprised by the question. " Um…people just call me Siler sir."

O’Neill stared up at the ceiling, a soft smile on his face. " I used to have a friend who liked to be called by his sirname as well." He shifted, a look of intense pain on his face.

" He’s dead now, has been for years." He smiled sadly, his eyes soft. " He was an environmentalist, working for one of those large multinational corporations that actually seemed to care. It didn’t help in the end though. He died hard, an unnecessary death, but for him I guess it was the only way…"

Siler waited silently, wondering about Colonel O’Neill’s friend, wondering how he died, and why it would still hurt the Colonel if it happened years ago like he said.

" They killed him," the O’Neill replied, his eyes dead. " It took me over two years to find the people who did it, but I did." His voice trailed off to a whisper. " Damn, I still miss him, even if he did only eat Tofu and sprouts."

Siler nodded, wondering for a moment if he should ask the Colonel if the bad guys survived. Eventually he decided not to. Some things he preferred not to know.

" Siler, be brave, but know when to retreat. Be firm, yet compassionate when need be.

Learn from your surroundings, your fellow warriors and most importantly, learn from yourself. If you make a mistake, fix it. Never deny it exists. You cannot be true to yourself if you lie to yourself."

Colonel O’Neill laughed softly. " Don’t thank me Sergeant, thank the spirit of an Apache Indian chief called Rain Spear. A brave and wise man by all accounts. He lived his life over a century ago, but his words still have meaning today. I live by his words, If I didn’t I would have long been court martialed, or dead."

He suddenly shuddered, a grimace on his face. " Damn Siler, couldn’t you have made the fire closer to us? I’m freezing my butt off.

Siler’s face fell. " Sorry sir, I think you’re in shock." He leaned in close, noting worriedly how much his CO was sweating. That wasn’t right, surely?

Jack looked up to see Siler begin to strip off his uniform tunic, with the obvious intention of covering him with it, and held up a hand.

" No Siler. You need that on, it’s cold enough as it is. No, check the dead. Maybe one of them has a jacket or something…" His voice trailed off as another wave of pain hit him.

" One of the…a Sergeant had a coat over her arm. I…" He looked wretched. " Sorry sir, I just couldn’t face stripping the dead."

Jack smiled ruefully, stopping the man. " Siler, I’m mean and old, with decades of hard military life behind me. Sometimes I don’t think how it must be for other people. I apologize."

Jack smiled when Siler reddened. " Don’t change who you are, Sergeant Siler," he whispered.

Sergeant Siler wasn’t one for cryptic comments. He was a straight and level kinda guy, definitely not any superhero like the gray haired Colonel lying next to his crouched feet.

He sat for a while looking at his familiar features, wondering why, with all the things that Colonel O’Neill had done; the man didn’t kinda, well, look different or something.

He stiffened when the Colonel’s breath caught for a moment before resuming at a harsher level.

Gritting his teeth, he carefully rose to his feet, ignoring the pain his ankles were in and limped to the middle of the elevator cab, looking up. Something, probably the pressure of the cab contracting, had popped off the roof hatch, allowing him to stare upwards into the dark shaft above his head. He squinted his eyes, desperately looking for some sign of life. A light, a sound, anything to tell him that he wasn’t alone.

There was nothing. His world consisted of the small smoky fire, flickering orange in the night, and dead people.

Carefully he reached up for the hatch and pulled himself through, then coughed violently on the acrid smoke from his fire that funneled through with him, and sat on the roof.

He froze, ears straining to hear a sound, but there was nothing, just the sound of his own breathing.

" Ah come on guys," he whispered to his distant friends. " Somebody must have seen what happened and reported it, surely?"

Siler slowly flexed his ankles, feeling the tightness that indicated that something wasn’t quite kosher.

Pain or not, Colonel O’Neill was counting on him to get him out of this predicament, something he should take to heart.

" Okay now. Let’s see what we have." He took his Zippo from his pocket, thankful that he had just filled it. Smoking was a bad habit, but hey, it sometimes had its uses.

The tiny flame told him all he needed. The cables had somehow parted, lying twisted in a tangled heap around him along with what looked like a large cog of some kind.

He shook his head despairingly. Technician he may be, but he had no idea what he was looking at, lift mechanics being way beyond his level of expertise. Or way below. Yeah, way below his level of expertise.

His flickering flame also showed him something else, something that looked suspiciously like a metal ladder bolted to the side of the shaft.

Wondering how long ago the ladder had been installed didn’t stop him from scrabbling across to it.

Carefully he pulled on it, expecting it to crumple into rust flakes at any minute, but it was surprisingly stable.

He stared down through the hatch back at Colonel O’Neill with a thoughtful expression. He had not a shadow of a doubt that had their roles been reversed Colonel O’Neill would be halfway up the shaft by now, hanging on for dear life.

He was Sergeant Siler, a tiny cog in the Air Force machine definitely not trained to do anything heroic.

" Siler, tear a shirt into strips, tie them together and then tie yourself to the ladder."

Siler lowered his head through the open hatch where he had been dubiously eyeing the rusty ladder and stared at Colonel O’Neill in surprise.

How the Colonel could even know what he was thinking, grievously injured as he was, was something worth thinking about, but not now. Now he had to get help, and quickly.

" Siler, if you go up that ladder without some form of support, you will fall, guaranteed. Rather tie yourself to the ladder,"

He shifted, the pain raw on his face for a moment before subsiding with a dark glance that dared Siler to say anything.

" Make a rope, large enough to go round your middle and the ladder itself. Tie it together with a reef knot or another knot guaranteed to hold, but able to easily come apart when needed, because you will have to loosen it and climb past areas where the ladder is fixed to the wall before retying yourself. That way, if you fall back, the loop should theoretically stop you from falling backwards away from the ladder, and if you lose your grip, you’ll only fall until you encounter where the ladder is bolted before stopping."

It was a good idea, something so simple that wouldn’t have occurred to Siler in a million years.

"You remember that tofu eating friend of mine? He taught me well." O'Neill's voice trailed off.

He was perturbed when the Colonel didn’t reply, staring at him with a fathomless expression that he had seen only in pictures before. On the faces of dying people.

Turning away from that disturbing image, Siler rapidly began stripping the dead, at last able to do the act without a qualm.

Finding what he wanted on a faceless sergeant, a thick cotton shirt, he began desperately pulling the material apart.

Much to his surprise it was harder to do than he realized. On television they made it look so easy, he thought irritably, whereas in reality it was nigh near impossible to do at all.

Growling in frustration, he cast around the shattered elevator floor, soon finding a shard of sharp metal. Things progressed much smoother after that, and he soon had a large rope of material that the Colonel would be happy with, had he been conscious, which he definitely wasn’t anymore.

His mouth set in a thin line of worry; Siler rapidly stripped a thick parka off of somebody else and gently covered the Colonel with it, hoping against hope that the added warmth would keep O’Neill alive until he returned with help.

" Hang in there Colonel," he said softly, and climbed out of the hatch without a backwards glance, instinctively knowing that he no longer had time to worry about anything but what lay ahead.

Trying not to stare upwards into the inky darkness, he tied himself firmly to the ladder and stepped onto the first rung.

Step pull, step pull. Adjust loop. Step pull, step pull. Wedge in body tightly, untie rope, push it past the rusting metal bolt, retie and continue.

The routine was monotonous, soon making Siler’s mind wander, a dangerous thing to have happen, as he soon found out.

The loud 'CRACK!' as the rung under his feet gave way was the most frightening thing Siler swore he had ever heard in his entire life.

One minute he was steadily pulling himself upwards towards what he perceived to be a faint light that may have been his imagination, the next he was frantically flailing at the ladder as he felt his body plummet.

Shaking in reaction to his near death experience, Siler pressed his face into the rungs and said a quick prayer. If it hadn’t been for Colonel O’Neill waking at that moment to give him that particular piece of advice, he would be dead.

For a moment he half expected someone to reprimand him for his unusual profanity, but of course nobody did.

He was too far above the crushed cab for O’Neill to have heard him and from the look of it, or not, in this stygian darkness, still way below the first of the elevator doors.

Taking a deep breath to calm his still quaking nerves, Technical Sergeant Siler once more began to climb.

Major Samantha Carter squirmed under the intense gaze of Colonel Van Ryn, SG5’s commanding officer.

The monthly safety meeting was for the head of each SG unit, meaning she should never have been present at all, however when Colonel O’Neill hadn’t arrived, General Hammond had immediately drafted her in as a replacement for SG1, and to

Needless to say, her presence wasn’t sitting too well with the two Colonel’s present.

Van Ryn scowled. " Poor guy my foot. You realize that if those assholes of an elevator company don’t find that jammed cab really quickly, we will be forced to walk up twenty six floors before we can go home?"

Sato gave him an evil smile. " Speak for yourself Colonel san . My team are due on P7Y E3H at 15H00."

Carter stared at the two Colonels mock feuding and sighed quietly. The meeting had been a disaster from the moment she had sat down. Everyone on the base knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the only person who could handle Colonel’s Sato and Van Ryn together in the same room at the same time was Colonel O’Neill.

She opened her mouth to get the meeting back on track when a sharp rap on the door interrupted her.

" Begging your pardon maam, sirs, but Doctor Fraiser and SG5 are urgently needed at the lift shaft."

The young airman took a deep breath, clearly overawed by so much exalted rank on one place.

Carter and Dr Fraiser stared at each other in confusion as Colonel Van Ryn fairly leapt over the briefing room table and out of the door, Sato in hot pursuit.

Step up, pull, use arms. Don’t think about the long drop down. Adjust loop. Don’t think about the fire in your lungs, the pain in your shoulders, or your ankles.

Suddenly an authoritive voice spoke from somewhere really close, making him gasp.

" Kent , if we use the supports here…and here, we can abseil like we did last time."

" Fuck Colonel, begging my pardon sir, but I’m beginning to know the inside of this shaft a bit too well if you ask me."

Siler froze to astonished immobility, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. The voices seemed be right above him, although as to precisely where he couldn’t quite figure out. Nevertheless, if he could hear them, then they could hear him as well.

" Sorry man." The beam was immediately shifted. " Climb seven more rungs and we’ll grab you."

That he could do. Couldn’t he? Wedging his body against the rungs he slowly untied the makeshift rope and let it drop, its job done.

Mouth set in a thin line; Siler slowly began climbing again, until he was abruptly grabbed and pulled into a lit hallway.

Then the welcome face of Doctor Janet Fraiser swam into view, her face concerned.

" Colonel O’Neill needs your help." He stared over her shoulder at a tall blonde Colonel.

Van Ryn squatted next to the filthy man. " How many people are we looking at Sergeant?"

The man shook his head, leaving sooty patches on the thin carpet. " No one else sir. Everyone else died on impact."

Siler suddenly relaxed, his eyes rolling back as his body finally gave into the extreme toll he had placed on it, his job done.

Thus he was totally unaware of the dark looks Dr Fraiser traded with Colonel Van Ryn as she carefully supervised his removal to the infirmary.

"Major Kent," Van Ryn roared, his eyes still resting on the slack body of what had to be a very brave man. " Get the…"

Van Ryn wheeled round and regarded his six-member team, accepting the proffered hard hat from their paramedic, Lieutenant Symms.

To say they were disturbing would be an understatement, but try as he would he could not fully wake up.

He knew he was in trouble, he knew that something bad had happened to him, and to…someone else.

Gritting he teeth, he desperately tried to wake. He needed to warm up. If he didn’t, he was going to die.

Down they went, pitons clinking on belts as they rapidly navigated their way past mysterious objects that appeared and disappeared in the lights from their safety helmets.

Colonel Van Ryn took the lead, closely followed by Lieutenant Symms, carrying a large medical backpack.

The rest of SG 5 came last, carefully carrying stretchers, glorifying in the loud whirring noise that a snag free descent entailed.

Time was now of the essence, as it was each and every time their skills were called into play.

SG 5 was primarily a search and rescue team, and as such were used to going into dangerous situations where time was critical for the survival of whatever SG unit they were going to rescue.

This time it was almost a carbon copy of what they had done almost a year before. Another similarity was what they were destined to face, injured and dead people, relying on their expertise to help them.

What had taken Sergeant Siler over an hour to do; they did in reverse in less than ten minutes, soon thumping onto the buckled elevator roof with a clang that was sure to be noticed by any people below, if they were alive.

When nobody called out, Colonel Van Ryn’s face set into an expressionless mask.

Jack was a good friend and the thought of finding his lifeless body did not sit well with him at all.

Charlie Kawalsky, his best friend and the person his son was named after, started to turn away, his smile soft in the violet light.

Jack frowned. Something was wrong. He felt so warm, so…peaceful in Charlie’s presence, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. Not since Saudi, before Operation Storm had started in earnest.

Charlie smiled. " You’re dreaming Jack." He jerked his head towards a sharp cracking sound.

" Charlie." He whispered into the darkness, only to feel a warm hand on his shoulder.

It was deeper, with a similar accent to his own. It wasn’t Charlie. Nevertheless, it was still familiar.

Jack stared up into darkness, seeing nothing for a moment, then the familiar face of Zechariah Van Ryn stood out in the reflected glow of a couple of torches.

" I’m here Jack." His warm hand was somehow soothing, helping him against the pain.

Colonel Van Ryn leaned in close, marveling that the broken man could even remember his own name, let alone another’s.

The rescue of Colonel Jack O’Neill and the recovery of the bodies took the rest of the day.

Lieutenant Symms, under explicit radio instructions from Dr Fraiser, sedated Colonel O’Neill before strapping him into a specially designed stretcher for mountain rescues.

Only once he was trussed up like a mummy, which was kind of funny come to think of it, considering the work they did, did Lieutenant Symms allow the rest of SG5 to take up the slack and slowly lift him from the elevator.

Once he was on his way, did Symms turn to the grim task of identifying and cataloguing the dead.

One of the first people besides the frantic medical staff to realize the seriousness of the situation was Dr Daniel Jackson.

He, like the rest of SG1 had come in early in order to prepare for their mission to BX8 YP0 scheduled for the following day. Like many people that morning, he had to take the stairs due to what he believed was a malfunctioning elevator.

This he did with good grace, ignoring the grumbling people around him. Being part of an SG team meant being at peak fitness at all times, meaning he had no real problems. Besides, it was downhill. Just wait ‘til the end of the day, when people had to walk back up.

The thought of hundreds of huffing and puffing people had made him laugh out loud, garnering him a few odd looks.

Now, three hours later, staring at the bloodied face of Jack O’Neill as he was rapidly wheeled past him down the hallway, he couldn’t have felt less like laughing.

He made to follow, only to be bought up short by a barked order from Dr Warner, ordering two SF’s to guard the door, effectively sealing the place from the curiosity of the milling people in the hallway.

Daniel glared at the door, biting his lip wondering what to do. Only a person of Sam’s rank or higher could order them to allow him inside, only she was nowhere to be seen.

" Everyone has precisely ten minutes to report back to their stations, or face disciplinary action," he roared. " That includes all the civilians I see here as well, so MOVE IT."

Jack was his best friend, something Colonel Sato knew well, and he was damned if he was losing sight of the infirmary, no matter what the dear oriental Colonel might do.

" You will have to shoot me if you want me to leave this spot," he grated to Sato in the now empty hallway.

" Don’t be nasty," said Sato mildly, reaching between them and opening the door.

He had been talking to Charlie and… No, that couldn’t be right. Charlie was dead. They both were dead.

Fraiser again, " Believe me Xavier, at this moment in time I’ll accept anything."

" Damn." He felt a hand on his forehead, cool against his skin, and smelt her distinctive perfume. Eau de Doc.

It was hard, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to do it. They had to know about Siler. He could be lying hurt and alone somewhere. He didn’t deserve that.

The large light in the operating room haloed her head, making her look like an angel, causing tears to well.

Her laugh was warm, comforting, as she replaced the tight mask, allowing him to breathe easier.

Siler was safe. The lines of worry smoothed from his face as he finally allowed the drugs to win.

The infirmary was empty save for a nurse and one lonely looking beat up occupant in a far bed.

" Siler." Daniel was over there like a shot, a silent Colonel Sato forgotten in his haste.

A hideous bruise, made worse by the starched white pillow behind his head, covered most of his face.

He also had both hands covered in thick white gauze, making him look like the losing person in a boxing fight.

He opened his eyes and stared at Daniel blearily, stiffening when he saw Colonel Sato.

" The operating room, Colonel, Dr Jackson," he said softly. " Colonel O’Neill never came in here at all."

" God Damn it." Daniel said slowly enunciating, each syllable slowly for maximum impact.

" They’ll never let us in there," he said miserably, sitting dejectedly on the side of the nearest bed.

" Thank goodness. Think of all the germs we carry." Sato said lightly, smiling at the anxious linguist, whilst hooking a chair with his foot. " He’ll be fine, I’m sure. You and I both know that O’Neill is one tough son of a…"

" Sorry we’re late," Carters voice said, as she and Teal’c made their way towards them.

" General Hammond had us secure all access to the elevator until JAG have been notified." She came to a breathless halt in front of them.

Teal’c was looking around the near empty infirmary with a dark expression on his face. " I do not see O’Neill," he said eventually.

" Operating room," Sam and Daniel said together. " I tried to find out what was happening, but nobody seems to know," Carter continued.

" Understandably, seeing as the people who would know are currently in there with him," Sato said dryly.

He got to his feet. " Come and get some coffee with me and leave Sergeant Siler alone to sleep."

It’s never a fun thing to wake up from a big operation, as Jack O’Neill had found out a long time ago. This time was no different.

He had been staring up dazedly at a red blob for what seemed like ages before his brain finally told him that it was a bag of red blood, blood that was no doubt dripping its way into some vein of his, keeping him alive.

Once he had that mystery sorted out, he allowed his eyes to wander around what had to be the infirmary. No other room on the planet could give him the chills quite like…

" Colonel." A small shard of ice was slipped between his lips that he sucked on greedily, trying to remove the gunk that had gathered in his mouth.

" You’re okay, your team is okay and even Sergeant Siler is okay," she said, as if by rote.

She knew immediately to whom he referred. " In the elevator? Yes. You and Sergeant Siler were the only survivors."

Her expression hardened. " Yes, survivors." She shook his shoulder, breaking through the drugs that paled his face. " And don’t you forget it."

" He was released yesterday," she said gently. She elaborated when he looked confused.

It was nice at first to be known as the man who single-handedly saved the life of Colonel O’Neill, but now it was beginning to pall.

No matter how he tried, he couldn’t forget the faces of the dead as they lay in crumpled heaps, frozen faces eerie in the flickering light of his makeshift fire.

He also couldn’t forget the all-pervading cold that had seeped into his bones, nor the waxen face of Colonel O’Neill as he waited to die.

Sure, they told him that he had somehow climbed up over ten floors with sprained ankles in his quest to be rescued, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter anymore. He was consumed with a sense of…guilt.

Why, out of all of the people in that elevator that day, had he survived relatively intact?

Throwing down his pliers, he leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, gritting his teeth against the inexplicable tears.

At first Colonel O’Neill didn’t respond, making Siler want to bolt. Unfortunately Doctor Fraiser’s request had sounded a lot like an order, making escape impossible.

Colonel O’Neill looked terrible. Somehow he looked even worse than he had at the bottom of the elevator shaft, if that was possible, the only difference being the fact that he was lying in a clean hospital bed connected to machines.

He also looked old, something Siler found very hard to equate with the vibrant commander of SG1.

The eyes opened and a totally different person blazed out from behind dark brown eyes.

The old man in the bed was gone, totally replaced by the familiar commander of SG1.

How in the hell did he do it? For a moment Siler stood frozen, grappling with his emotions before collapsing in a chair, angrily swiping at his face.

" They all treat me like a hero, when I’m not," he said miserably, avoiding those blazing eyes.

He couldn’t help himself. Jerking his head up he glared at the Colonel, loathing in his eyes.

" Why did they all die, and me live," he cried, "what possible reason was there for that? "

" The Gou’ald" O’Neill said softly, motioning Doctor Fraiser back into her office with his unbandaged hand.

" Maybe I’m not the right one to be talking to," he said contemplatively, "maybe not. Or maybe I am the only person who can help you, I don’t know. All I do know is that I have been where you are before, and know it well."

" Survivors guilt," he said softly. " It’s called survivors guilt, Siler, and if you let it, it can tear your life apart." He looked pensive, as if grappling with something, then said, " As it almost did mine, a long time ago."

This caused O’Neill to smile a small bitter smile. " Only because I’m an old gray bastard who learnt long ago how to roll with the punches." His eyes sharpened, seeming to dance with icy fire. " Now it is your turn."

Siler sat for a moment, trying to corral all the different thoughts whirling round in his head, pleased that O’Neill was content to let him be.

Finally the crushing realization came that life as he knew it had been altered forever by what he had experienced.

" One step at a time," O’Neill said gently. " One day at a time. Your life has a direction now, all it requires is for you to take it slowly."

O’Neill nodded, his face serious. " At first I couldn’t understand it myself, how come everyone around me had died, and I had survived." He shook his head, wincing slightly, struggling to explain.

" This was years ago in another country entirely. I was imprisoned, treated harshly. At first I wanted to die, I couldn’t understand why I had survived when others around me hadn’t.

" Why me, Siler? That question consumed me, ate at my world until finally something broke.

Unfortunately, or rather, fortunately, I was incarcerated by people who wanted me alive, making the possibility of suicide remote to say the least.

So I had to live with my demons, and you know what Siler? Slowly, over the weeks that followed, I came to realize that I had been spared for another reason.

I eventually went home, back to civilization, back to my life, a changed man, but, and this is very important Siler, not a broken one. I had started to heal."

O’Neill shifted in bed again, biting back a groan at the pain he caused himself.

" I waited years to find out why I had been spared that day. My child died, my marriage fell apart, and still I waited, until I finally met a creature called Apophis."

Siler suddenly found himself pinned by the familiar eyes of fire, freezing him to his chair.

" Doctor Mackenzie will tell you that what you are feeling is a natural occurrence after a traumatic event, and he may be right. I however, believe that we survived for a reason. That reason is called the Gou’ald."

" But why me sir?" he asked in a small voice. " I am a nobody. I don’t go out and fight the Gou’ald like you do."

" They tell me you climbed up over ten floors in your quest to find some help. That is hardly the actions of a nobody," O’Neill said gently.

" As for fighting the Gou’ald, tell me this, if you had died down there, would your staff have known how to keep the gate operating? Be honest," he ordered.

Siler felt his scalp contracting. " They would have figured it out in time, sir."

For the first time since entering the infirmary Siler felt easy in O’Neill’s presence, like he could breathe again. He raised his head and met the Colonel’s stare.

Siler stared at O’Neill, wondering how the man had managed to clarify in a few short sentences what he had been grappling with for over three days.

"Now, I suggest you take a deep breath and start kicking some butt.When you’re finished with the gate I have a certain elevator company with a really appropriate name for you to deal with....."

I have always hated lifts and now you have put all my fears in a story. Good job.

By the way – lI would love to have a brother like Joe.

Jeane