The Recovery After A Battlefield
The Recovery After A Battlefield
by Jean
Summary: A caring professional.
Category: Angst
Season: any Season
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: 13+
Warnings: language
Author's Notes: Thank you kindly for reading this series. If you were looking for bags of angst, I am sorry: I seemed to end up in a lighter place with this than I'd initially intended! If you like, you could try one of my other fics, 'No Happy Endings', if you need a real bit of grim to darken down your day! In any case, I hope you have enjoyed this little series. Bestest wishies.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 07/20/05
The Battlefield Series Part Five
The Recovery After A Battlefield
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The first thing he is aware of is pain. A burning in his shoulder, a sharp discomfort in his...ow, ow his neck! He decides not to open his eyes just yet as he grasps around in his mind for his last memories. He has a strong feeling that when he had fallen asleep, there had been no danger, but in this crazy job he figures it would be just like Thor to whisk him half a galaxy or four away and graft on an extra head whilst he slept. And that really is one of the better options, in his oft-overlooked opinion.
Then he hears beeping and people murmuring softly. He recognises that beeping. Oh, does he ever. The infirmary. Shit. He half thinks he would have prefered the Thor thing. There is nothing for it. A slightly befuddled Jack O'Neill opens his eyes. And finds that he is currently looking down at the floor. In fact, the only thing in his field of vision right now is a pair of feet encased in some polished ladies shoes. Tiny, tiny, tiny feet. He knows who those feet belo...Doctor Janet Frazier crouches down and with a warm grin that somehow also manages to have an edge of annoying smugness to it, speaks in the cheeriest voice. Ever. "Good morning, Colonel. Did you sleep well?"
She can only just stop herself from laughing out loud as she reads his face. He manages to restrain himself from the cursing that is written all over it in about five seconds. Which is good. A personal best for a morning in the infirmary, she thinks.
"Yes, Doctor, as a matter of fact I did sleep well. It's the waking up part that's a little harsh." His voice is gruff, his a tone a smidgen this side of bear-like. "What happened? Why am I sitting in this chair? Why aren't I in my own bed?". Suddenly, with a huge effort and a tremendous groan, he pulls his head up. His eyes are clear now and Janet knows that he has realised the reason for his discomfort. His gaze shifts to the empty bed in the cubicle and she watches as he tries not to panic. "Sam...Major Carter. Is she OK?".
All thoughts of teasing the poor man about his seriously unwise choice of sleeping arrangements fly out of the window as she registers the depth of his concern. "The Major is going to be just fine, Sir. She has just been taken to have a cast applied to her lower leg. It's looking good though and I think she may well be out of it within a month."
"Well, that's good," he huffs. "She's like a bear when she's wearing a cast. Says she can't stand the itching."
Doctor Janet Frazier bursts into a spontaneous peal of laughter before he halts it with a sharp narrowing of his eyes. "Did I say something funny?"
"Nothing Colonel." For just a moment, she pulls her features into the very embodiment of professionalism, but she can't make it stick. So her face splits into a wide grin as she says, rather impishly, "Just amazed that you, of all people, would moan about Sam being like a bear, Sir. Given your current mood. Um, with all due respect. Colonel. Sir." She stutters to a halt.
"Very amusing, Doctor." He's honestly trying to be in a foul temper, but the news about his 2IC is enough to override even the teasing of a certain miniature tyrant. So instead of sounding angry, he is now almost back to his normal, perhaps a little sarcastic but in his own opinion not completely uncharming, self. "Look, Doc, much as I'd love to sit here all day and glare, I've got places to be, people to meet and jello to get, so if you don't mind..."
The good doctor cuts him off with a wave. "Just a moment, Colonel. I have to check your shoulder first. If you could just move over to your own bed?" She watches him as he hauls himself upright, noting his grimace as he pulls his head fully upright. Satisfied that he is more than capable of making his way over to his own cubicle, she walks on ahead to gather supplies for his wound. As she trots away, Jack sends a nearly affectionate glare after her. "Napoleon," he mutters quietly.
The footsteps cease, but she doesn't turn. "I heard that, Colonel O'Neill." She continues on her way.
"Ears like a damned bat, " he whispers in disbelief.
"And I heard that too," comes the amused response.
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Major Samantha Carter is not best pleased. As she is wheeled back into the infirmary, she looks at her lower leg in some disgust. Holy Hannah, this thing is going to drive her crazy! She knows how this goes. In a couple of weeks time, she will be so itchy and uncomfortable that she'll seriously consider asking Siler for a hacksaw to cut this thing off herself. But she knows that won't work because a certain best friend of hers will have absolutely forbidden him or any other staff to do so. Said best friend will have also visited her home to clear out any cast threatening blades. Even her breadknife! She had found that out after her wrist.
As she is deposited back in her bed, her mood is broken by the voices emanating from a cubicle a little down the ward. His cubicle to be precise. She can't help but smile as she thinks of the moments just after she'd woken. As is usual for an infirmary style wake up, she had been disoriented at first, all the normal whats, wheres and whys overloading her sleep-addled brain. She'd realised in fairly short order that her ankle and her wrist hurt like hell and then she had recalled the battle. But then her eyes had come into focus and the first thing that they'd landed on was him. Slumped in the chair, he'd looked frankly adorable. The physical urge to ruffle his mussed up hair and to simply hold him had been almost overpowering, even if her ability to do so was limited by far more than her current injuries. And she knew that despite his own injury, he would have been there all night, just in case she woke. It made her feel warm inside, made her feel safe.
"Ow! Look, Doc, do you really have to use a needle that big? I've seen smaller spears!" Sam grins widely. God, that man hates this place. His voice is sounding like that of a petulant five year old, which at 4 O'Neills on the Infirmary Whining Scale (oh, how she had laughed when she'd heard about the IWS from one of the nurses!) means that poor Janet is dealing with him all alone. Any nurse with good sense will have already found an extremely valid and pressing reason to be elsewhere and in Sam's experience, all of the nurses at the SGC have impeccably good sense.
"Please be patient, Colonel, I'm almost done here!". Janet's voice is sounding a bit strained.
"I am being patient, Doctor. I'm being a really, really, patient patient. But you keep coming at me with those...those things that do not, I repeat, do not look like needles to me. Did you go to med school in the middle ages or something? Because I'm thinking Spanish Inquisition, I'm thinking witch hunts, I'm thinking torture is your speciality. This isn't fair!", he accuses. Oh dear, Sam thinks. He's shifted from a petulant five year old voice to an all out annoying thirteen year old voice.
Yes, he has truly tipped over into 5 O'Neills on the IWS. Poor Janet!
"If you will listen to me for just a moment, Sir."
"Why, you wanna stick a leech on me?"
Doctor Janet Frazier lets out a sigh. "No, Colonel. I'm finished. You may leave."
"Oh, that's it?". Suddenly his voice is bright. "Cool." A few moments of awkward silence, then, "Uh, Doc...I'm sorry if I was...a bit...unpleasant for a minute there. Thank you."
"That's alright, Sir. You are free to go. Please."
About thirty seconds later Janet appears at the foot of Sam's bed, looking mightily relieved. She rolls her eyes. "A bit unpleasant?"
Sam rolls her eyes in return. "For a minute?"
Janet grins. "Your CO is a great officer, a good man and a credit to this facility, Sam. But I have to say, as a patient? He sucks beyond the telling of it. He is a goddamned pain in the ass!"
The best friends laugh.
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It is only a few hours before the 24 hour period of observation necessary after a knock to the head expires and Samantha Carter is officially bored. Much as she loves her best friend, Janet's insistence that she rest and her confiscation of Sam's laptop, which Teal'c had sadly not managed to bring into the infirmary quite stealthily enough earlier, is starting to make her a little cranky. Nothing to do. Aaargh! Every single minute seems to take forever to pass. She has tried everything to keep herself amused. She's read a newspaper, talked with Daniel a lot, picked at what passes for food hereabouts for what felt like an ice age and made a few notes on some research she'd been doing, before the notepad and pen had been whipped away from her hands by Janet. She'd even tried following medical advice and attempted a bit of dozing throughout the day, but right now, she isn't sure she could sleep if her life depended on it. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored...
"Hey." Her eyes snap up to meet the arriving Colonel's.
"Hey, Sir." She grins. At last, some more company. And not just any company. His company. As he would say, cool.
"Watcha doin'?" That funny lopsided smile. She loves that. It always makes her feel special.
"Nothing, Sir. Bored."
"Huh. Really? Well, I think I can help you with that." He smiles triumphantly, bringing the hand that was behind his back forwards, holding...
"Jello for the patient? And not just any jello. Blue jello," he states in hushed, reverent tones.
Sam giggles. "What?" he asks, sounding almost offended. "Nothing, sir. You just sounded like you were talking about Excalibur or the Holy Grail for a second there. It's blue jello. Sir." She calms down, but her eyes are glowing with mirth. Suddenly Jack feels like his knees are turning to putty. She is so beautiful. Crap. Come on, Jack, he thinks, she's your 2IC. Pull yourself together.
"Yes, Carter, it is blue jello. But as you can't walk to the commissary to get any, blue jello might as well be Excalibur, for all that you'll get in here." He briefly glances around the infirmary with the smallest of shudders and then settles his gaze back on the only thing that interests him here. Her. He gives her a tiny nod. "You see?".
"Yes, Sir. And thank you."
"No problem, Carter, let's set you up with this." He shifts the table into position in front of her, places the fabled jello on it and watches as she begins to eat. He loves watching her eat. Those soft lips moving. Her eyes shining. And as for the 'mmm' sounds she occasionally makes...so not even going there. Just really not. Oh no.
He is brought out of his reverie when he notices that as she only has the use of one hand, the glass tub is starting to slide around on the smooth surface of the table. Most of the jello is now gone, but she's having trouble with the last bits. He decides to be gentlemanly and steps up to the metaphorical and literal plate.
"Carter, you having trouble there? If it'll help, I can...", holy fuck, he's only just realised what he's about to say, "...uh...you know...um...feed you?" By the end of the sentence, he is visibly wincing. Internally, he is kicking himself desperately. What in hell is he thinking? There's no way he can stand this!
Sam sucks in a sharp breath and speaks haltingly. "No, Sir, that's...not necessary. Really, I, er, th...thank you."
He has the good grace to look contrite. "I'm sorry, Major. I didn't mean to be inappropriate. It's just that you're injured and you looked like you needed some help."
Her face changes suddenly and she stares at him, squaring her shoulders. Oh crap, he isn't sure what's coming now, but knowing Sam it's bound to be a complete curveball. "You're not being inappropriate, Colonel. You're right. We have helped each other out this way in the past. I see no reason why you can't help me now."
Huh? What the what what? Oh shit! He steels himself. He isn't quite sure how he was arguing in favour of this, but he knows he can't back out now. "Of course, Carter," he grinds out, stepping forward and lifting the damned jello towards her.
As it touches her lips, his eyes catch hers, and everything stops. All he can see is her. His mouth is dry, his heart is pounding, his skin feels charged and all he can see is her, her, her. He's not too sure, but he thinks that he might be gasping for air. He watches as she pulls in a ragged breath herself. All he can see is her. Her mouth, her nose, her bed hair, the stiches on her forehead, the blush staining her cheeks, her eyes...God, those eyes. All her, only her. He is lost. He tries to listen to the warning klaxons in his mind. It takes him at least ten seconds to realise that the klaxons aren't in his mind at all.
"Unauthorised offworld activation."
He continues to look at her. Truth be told, he can't look away. He struggles to speak. "Carter, I...gotta..."
"Go on, Sir," she finishes for him , speaking more sharply than she intends to. "Go on. General Hammond might need you." More gentle this time, more controlled.
"OK. I'll be back soon." He rips his gaze from hers and goes to leave the cubicle. He stops and turns back. "Carter, do you want me to drive you home when they let you out? Settle you in?" His smile is so earnest that she returns it without a moment's hesitation.
"Yes, Sir."
His smile spreads into a huge grin. "Great. See ya later." He spins and leaves the infirmary, not realising that he still has the spoon in his hand. Sam is left behind, breathless. She isn't sure what just happened. She isn't sure about the ramifications on her career. She isn't sure she should have him drive her home tonight. But she is sure that she liked it, whatever it was. A lot.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Jean
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The Recovery After A Battlefield
by JeanStory Bemerkung:
Thank you kindly for reading this series. If you were looking for bags of angst, I am sorry: I seemed to end up in a lighter place with this than I'd initially intended! If you like, you could try one of my other fics, 'No Happy Endings', if you need a real bit of grim to darken down your day! In any case, I hope you have enjoyed this little series. Bestest wishies.Site Navigation
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