“So,” said Daniel. “What did you make of my findings in the cave?”
“What findings?”
“You know. The cave paintings. The ones showing how all this started. The release of the plagues by Ra and Setesh. The dead
Jaffa
.”
Dead
Jaffa
? She stopped. “Daniel, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t — ” Fist pressed to his head, he spun round to face her. “Janet, I wrote a whole
report
on it, I drew
pictures
. Colonel Dixon sent it through to the SGC yesterday morning.”
She shook her head. “I never saw it. Tell me about the dead
Jaffa
.”
“The diseases the Goa’uld turned loose here killed them.”
What
? “But Teal’c’s not sick.”
“I know,” said Daniel.
“Does he know
why
? Does he — ”
Daniel spread his arms in a ‘look around you’ gesture. “There
hasn’t been much time for chatting, Janet. I told him about the paintings, but he didn’t have an explanation. I was expecting you to follow up — ”
“Once I’d read your report.” She blew out a breath, the sound hollow and echoing inside her suit helmet. “Okay. When I’ve done what I came here to do, I’ll sit down with Teal’c. See what he knows. It might be nothing, or — ”
“It might be something.” Daniel chewed his lip. “I really hope it’s something, Janet. Things are pretty bad.”
As if she needed him to tell her that. In silence they continued to SG-1’s tent.
Jack was ill-advisedly out of bed, sitting on a camp stool beside Sam. He let go of her flaccid hand when he saw they had visitors and pushed unsteadily to his feet. “Hey, Doc.”
She nodded, for a moment not trusting herself to speak, wondering if this was what victims of the Great Plague in London had looked like. “Colonel. At the risk of spoiling our happy reunion, I feel bound to point out to you that you should be in bed.”
Somehow he managed to smile. “Ah. Still the Napoleonic power-monger, I see. Nice to know some things don’t change.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, sir. Now please. Go lie down, and I’ll examine you in a minute.”
He didn’t even have the strength for a token protest, just nodded and creaked his way back to his camp bed. She dropped to the stool and looked at Sam.
“Hey sweetie,” she murmured, her gloved fingers pressed gently to the lymph nodes under her friend’s jaw. Swollen. Tender. Even stuporous, Sam flinched. “You hang in there, Samantha. I’m not giving up on you just yet.”
Daniel said, “If it’s any consolation, she hasn’t gotten worse overnight.”
Her eyes were stinging. Damn. “That’s good news, Daniel. She could use more fluids, though. Go fetch me an i/v kit and a couple of bags of saline, would you? I’ll set it up now.”
“Sure,” said Daniel. “Won’t be a moment.”
Leaving Sam, she crossed to Jack. “Hey there,” she said, and pulled another stool close to sit on. “How ya doing,
mi amigo
?”
He blinked rapidly. “Janet, I’m — ” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes. “
Crap
.”
She took his hand and held it lightly, mindful of the open sores marring his skin. They should be bandaged. Damn, he was stubborn. “I know. I know. It’s okay.”
He pressed his other hand across his face, trying to hide. Needing to hide. “I cannot believe how screwed we are.”
“You’re a little screwed, yeah,” she said, struggling to keep her own voice steady. “But you’re not dead yet. And if I’ve got anything to say about it you won’t be dead for at least another forty years.”
“Your lips to God’s ears, Janet.” He let his hand fall from his eyes, showing her his naked, frightened face. “What the hell are you doing here? You shouldn’t be risking yourself like this. You’ve got Cassie to think of.”
“It was Cassie who told me I had to come, or else. I’m under
strict instructions to make you all better.” She cleared her throat.
“General Hammond sends his best, and Siler says to tell you there’s a vigil for you in the chapel.”
His head rolled on the pillow, his stark gaze shifting. “Sam’s bad.”
There was no point lying. “Yeah. She is.”
“I can’t believe Daniel and Dixon aren’t sick.”
“Well, I think I can explain Daniel, but as for Colonel Dixon?” She shrugged. “This thing is a crap shoot. You’re running roughly a 1-in-3 ratio of infected to healthy. So far, he’s got lucky.”
“Yeah. He should buy us lottery tickets when this is over. So, is there a name for what Carter’s got? What I’ve got?”
“Not really. I mean, nothing past Adjoan Strain A, Adjoan Strain B, Adjoan Strain — ”
He grimaced. “That’s original. Janet, how the hell did you convince Hammond to let you come?”
“No-one told you? I’m autopsying Lotar. It might help me understand what’s happening. Develop a treatment.”
He tried to sit up. “No. You can’t. One slip of the scalpel and you’ll end up on a bed right beside Carter. I’m pulling rank. Turn around and go home.”
Gently she pressed him onto his back. He was so weak, so unwell, he had no hope of fighting her. “Sorry, Jack. I got my clearance from our boss. And last time I looked colonel doesn’t outrank general.”
He was breathing heavily, almost wheezing. Fluid in his chest. “
Dammit
, Janet — ”
She had to grin, even though her throat was tight with pain. “Hey. We can play movie trivia quotes later. Right now I want you to lie still and shut up so I can examine you.”
Defeated, he let her poke and prod without argument. His lymph nodes were tender, too. And his belly. When pushed, he admitted there wasn’t really any part of him that didn’t hurt to some degree.
“Okay,” she said, and took his hand again. The fact he didn’t object distressed her almost more than his deteriorated condition. “Yet again you’re proving to the universe that you are one tough bastard. But let’s not kid ourselves. You’re sick, Jack. So
you let the guys look after you
. I know you hate being dependent, but things are how they are and they’re not going to change. At least not any time soon.”
His eyes were too bright, and it wasn’t just from his low-
grade fever. He was right on the edge. The only other time she’d
seen him this close to breakdown was after Frank Cromwell’s death.
She tightened her fingers. “If our friendship means anything, if ever you’ve trusted me as your doctor, you’ll promise me,
promise
me, you won’t get up again today.”
“Hell,” he said. “Who taught you to play this dirty?”
Another tight smile. “My skills evolve as the need arises.”
He sighed, a raspy, bubbling exhalation that ended in a cough. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Good,” she said, not even trying to hide her relief.
And then his hand tightened on hers, harder than she’d have thought was possible. “Now
you
promise me, Janet. Swear you won’t let my team die. Swear you’ll get them out of here alive.”
“Jack — ”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, and let go of her. “I know you can’t promise that.”
She pressed her palm to his cheek and lied. “No. I can. I’ll save them, Jack. Whatever it takes.” Burdened with his trust she lied… and he heard her do it. “Do you hear me? I’ll save them.”
Before he could answer, Daniel returned with the i/v kit for Sam. “Sorry I took so long,” he said. “I was — I got — anyway. Sorry.”
They exchanged looks. She knew exactly why he’d taken so long, he was giving Jack the space and time he needed with his doctor. She smiled. “That’s okay. Let’s get Sam set up. Then I’ll check in on the rest of your patients and after that… Lotar.”
Daniel stayed behind after Janet finished with Sam. She’d cursed putting in the i/v — apparently Hazmat suit gloves made the job a lot harder. He offered to do it but she said no. He thought, looking at her face as she inserted the i/v needle, that tending Sam herself, finally getting hands-on in this crisis, was a kind of healing for her.
She looks like she needs it.
He found his comb and gently ran it through Sam’s hair, knowing how much she hated being unkempt.
I love my job, don’t get me wrong
, she’d told him once, when they were up to their eyeballs in another crisis and plastered head to toe with mud.
I just — sometimes I really wish it wasn’t so messy. Y’know?
“There you go, Sam,” he murmured, and tossed the comb onto his camp bed. “Pretty as a picture.” Then he went and sat beside Jack. “Hey.”
With an effort Jack lifted his swollen, blistered eyelids. “Hey.”
“How you doing?”
“Never better.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that.”
Wheezing, Jack shifted on his camp bed. “Can’t believe Fraiser’s in town.”
“No. It’s good. And all it took to get her here was the need for an autopsy.” He heard the bitterness in his voice, and tried to soften it. “And wanting to make sure Teal’c, Dave and I don’t run the SGC out of Tylenol.”
“No way,” said Jack. “You’re doing great, Daniel.”
Jack so rarely broke out in compliments. Despite the sharp pain of Lotar, he smiled. “Thanks. Although…”
“What?”
He was still their team leader. He had the right to know. “Teal’c’s taking this pretty hard. He’s blaming himself.”
“Damn.”
He hesitated, then added, “And us.”
Jack stared at him, his eyes so sunken, so bloodshot. “The whole… fairytale thing?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s wrong,” said Jack. “It’s not his fault, it’s not our fault. It’s not even Washington’s fault. For once. The Goa’uld did this, Daniel. They’re the only ones to blame.”
“I don’t know,” he said, troubled. “I can’t help — ”
“
Daniel
.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Okay.”
“Tell him to come see me. I’ll put him straight.”
Oh, so not a good idea. “You’re not well enough for exciting conversation, Jack.”
Jack managed a grin, a travesty of amusement. “If I can survive Dixon, I can survive anything.”
Right. And speaking of Dixon…
How the hell do I say this tactfully
? “Ah, how are you guys doing, anyway? How are
you
doing, him being here? Was I wrong, to worry? Y’know, about him stirring up — ”
Jack glared. “Oh, cut the crap, Daniel. The bastard told you, didn’t he.”
There really wasn’t any point, being tactful with Jack. “About
you having nightmares? Yeah. Sorry.”
With a muffled grunt, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine.”
Except he so clearly wasn’t. “Jack — ”
“I’m
fine
, I said, and that’s the end of the discussion,” Jack snapped. And then had to take a moment, to recover his breath. “Haven’t you got a bedpan to empty somewhere, or something?”
Actually, there was a lot of
or something
he needed to do. “Dixon’s really not a bad guy, Jack,” he said quietly, standing. “He’s worried about you.”
“I’m touched,” said Jack, and closed his eyes.
Daniel sighed.
Okay. That went well
. And knowing precisely when he was beaten, he left Jack alone.
Walking alone from SG-1’s tent to Georgetown’s medical district Janet found she had to stop for a minute, and take stock. Let the enormity of what was happening here hit her, so she could absorb it and move on. Be effective. Do her job.
I’ve read about field hospitals du
ring the Civil War but I never thought I’d actually get to help recreate one.
It was an experience she could happily have lived without.
Gradually her turmoil eased and she was able to really take in what she was seeing. Dear God, what they’d achieved. It was some kind of miracle. She didn’t want to think what SG-1’s journey from Mennufer had been like, leading hundreds of people, many of them ill, needing to be stretchered, through the unforgiving terrain lying between the Stargate and the valley that had been the villagers’ home.
Maybe we should rechristen Jack ‘Moses’.
And if that wasn’t hard enough, then to arrive at the gate… only to see the mountains of equipment waiting for them. To cope with the rest of what they needed being sent through, hour after hour. She’d seen the operation from the SGC end. It had boggled her imagination, how fast Hammond had managed to organize tents and supplies and camp beds and portable generators and lights and — and
everything
SG-1 needed to create their home away from home.
A small herd of unaffected children, a roughly equal mix of boys and girls, had gathered in one of Georgetown’s narrow streets and was playing with the soccer ball Siler had included in a shipment of supplies. She stood and watched them for a while, wondering at their laughter.
Never underestimate the resilience of kids.
But even though this happy little band looked healthy enough, who knew what was brewing inside them, waiting for the chance to erupt in fevers, blisters, rashes and worse?