*****

Whoops

�There�s not that much damage�� Siler protested mildly.

�In comparison to what?� Jack responded with a gesture of his ash covered fingers and a derisive snort.

The intrepid sergeant waved at the particles of dust and debris hanging in the air between them. �Point taken, Sir.�

�Siler, it did occur to you that a rather large boom could result here?�

�Yes, Sir.�

�But you thought you would give it a whirl anyway?�

�I was told that you needed a large shipment of explosives ASAP, Sir. Given the specs Major Carter wrote out on her mission update, I thought that this would do the trick.�

�Siler, you nearly blew the Gateroom into little tiny pieces!� Jack roared. �The point was to get the Shipment to PX�oh hell, whatever it is. Not turn yourself and the rest of the SGC into a smoking crater!�

�Yes, Sir.�

�I thought you had the kinks worked out of this stuff��

�Evidently not, Sir.�

Jack rolled his eyes. The younger man was unflappable, as always. He envied Siler his ever-present serenity and bland wit. The man could absorb any situation and remain completely unruffled by it. It was a good quality to have in a subordinate, a better one in a man who handled explosives as part of his everyday life.

Still.

�Siler, get it sorted.�

�Yes, Sir��

Jack spun away and winced. What the hell?

�Uh, Sir��

Now what? �For cryin� out loud man��

�You might want to have that looked at.�

What? He looked down and felt his stomach do a slow, anxious roll. A piece of what had been the door to one of the fuse boxes was sticking out of his thigh. As he watched mesmerized, a ruby stream welled from beneath his torn pant�s leg and trailed to the tip of the razor sharp metal. The blood dripped onto the floor, forming a muddy pool in the ash near his boots.

How did that get there?

The thought had time enough to coalesce as he fell heavily against the far wall and slid unceremoniously to the floor. It was only a little gash after all�

�Medical team to the Gateroom,� Siler barked calmly into the intercom.

There�s not that much damage!

Five Minutes

�Taking a break, Doctor?�

Janet Fraiser pushed the hair back from her eyes and nodded wearily. �Yes, thank heavens.� She peered over the cook�s shoulder towards the cooling racks lining the back wall of the kitchen. The scent of fresh baked bread and pastries tainted the air. Her nostrils flared as she took an appreciative sniff. �Is that what I think it is?�

The small Asian cook behind the counter smiled brightly. �Yes, Ma�am, Chocolate Chip muffins.�

�My favorite,� Janet breathed, feeling slightly adolescent in her reaction and too tired to care. �Could I have one?�

�Well they�re awfully hot��

�I don�t care if they�re on fire. I could really use the boost.�

The young woman nodded and snatched a butter knife from the counter. The fresh muffin fell apart as she pried if free and placed it on a saucer. Janet�s mouth watered in anticipation. Chocolate and Caffeine, perfect! She accepted the proffered sweet and smiled at the cook�s muted chuckle. �You have no idea.�

�One of those days?�

Janet grimaced. �Yeah, you could say that.�

�Enjoy.�

She nodded and proceeded across the mostly empty commissary to a corner table.

�One of those days� was the understatement of the year.

The alarm had failed to go off, making Cassie late for school and her late for work. She spent the impromptu detour deflecting requests from the grumbling teen regarding an overnight concert, and a solo movie night with Dominic. So not going to happen! The unusual route from school to the mountain brought her in contact with a traffic accident involving a poultry truck and a yuppy in an SUV. So much for the simplicity of an earthbound existence.

Janet sipped her coffee and eyeballed the warm chocolate pooling in the lip of the saucer.

Arrival at the SGC brought the first in a pair of �unusual� encounters. The term was certainly relative to the job she performed, but that didn�t make things less harried.

SG-13 had stumbled across a fungus. Exposure to exotic flora was nothing new, but dealing with the effects always presented a unique set of challenges. In the process of treating a rather �colorful� rash on Colonel Dixon�s backside, Janet discovered that the normally affable father of four was nearly as irascible a patient as Colonel O�Neill. The how and why the rash spread so rapidly from one buttock to the next was way more information than he cared to impart. Medical necessity finally forced a rather sheepish, nearly inaudible tale from Dixon�s pursed lips. The story included a run down on the poor quality of his wife�s cooking, and the inadvisability of eating Mexican before an offworld assignment. Patience became the order of the day as the chagrined officer refused to allow anyone but the CMO to treat his �affliction�.

Janet smiled secretly as she sank into a chair. It wasn�t all work and no play. In spite of a required measure of clinical detachment, she could appreciate a tight ass as much as the next woman.

She slid a forkful of the steaming muffin into her mouth and savored the hint of chocolate. God that was good. Of course, the pastry would have to be Betty Crocker�s finest to banish the second incident from mind.

After clearing Dixon and his flaming derri�re out of the Infirmary, Janet expected at least five minutes time to clear her thoughts. An unexpected Gate activation brought any illusions of �peace and quiet� to an abrupt end. She entered the managed chaos of the Control room in time to see Colonel O�Neill stroll rapidly through the event horizon and clank down the ramp. Serious intent was written all over his craggy features. Janet allowed herself to relax marginally. He was one of the Infirmary�s most frequent, and infamous, guests. Forever falling victim it seemed to some strange injury, disease, or psychosis. Fortunately, his return was not a harbinger of personal disaster, but merely a request for specialized explosives. Janet had not been able to hang around long enough to find out why. A page sent her scrambling back to the Infirmary in time to meet Airman Thomas hobbling through the door on the arm of an SF.

At first glance it appeared the Airman had a simple sprain. Janet listened to the list of symptoms Thomas was exhibiting and decided to let Charlotte Rush, a very capable nurse, examine him more closely. She needed to write a detailed, and �careful�, file on Dave Dixon�s mishap.

Appearances can be deceiving should be written somewhere in big, bold letters where everyone in the Infirmary could read it on a daily, nay hourly basis.

The dark musing forced a rapid shiver down Janet�s spine. She sat back and closed her eyes, sipping periodically at her cooling coffee.

Thomas could have pulled a muscle doing almost anything, but of course it wasn�t that simple. His unit had returned from an offworld operation the evening before. With no obvious signs of trauma their physicals were put off for eight hours. They could rest on-base, until cleared by medical. The mission had been particularly grueling. SG-8 spent three days in the rain attempting to stave off a flood at a Naquada mining facility. The Airman was a capable engineer rising quickly in the ranks. As a result he spent the better part of 72 hours supervising and participating in the construction of various temporary dams and levies to channel the water flow. He was unclear when he had fallen or how, and completely unaware of the tiny gash at the back of his right calf. Until, morning brought an absence of feeling and a large bump to the injured area.

More alien beasties. Her microscope was having a field day.

With the use of antibiotics the swelling was beginning to recede, but the skin was a nasty orange beneath Thomas� normally dark tones. He was resting comfortable in isolation and Janet added one more report to the growing stack.

She opened her eyes and looked forlornly at her empty plate. Just five minutes, that�s all I need to recharge� She pushed back from the table, intent on a second muffin. The floor rumbled ominously and she dropped back down with a jolt.

What on earth?

The klaxons sounded and the room was bathed with eerie red flashes as the warning lights glowed to life.

What now!

After a couple of minutes the alarms fell silence and she began to cautiously relax. Maybe it wasn�t that serious.

�Doctor Fraiser to the Infirmary, please. Doctor Fraiser to the Infirmary.�

Janet shook her head and tossed her napkin on the table.

Never a dull moment, but never enough moments either!

She gathered the reports and rose from her chair, casting a last, longing glance towards the kitchen. The cook smiled sympathetically and called out. �Would you like me to save you one, Doctor?�

�Two!� she replied with a waggle of her fingers.

The cook�s soft laughter followed her down the hall.

I just needed five minutes!

Of Prisms and Pain

�I don�t need any help, � Jack snapped irritably as he clambered off the gurney and onto the bed.

�Sir, you passed out.�

�Did not.�

The orderly rolled his eyes and pushed the gurney out of the way. He hit the page button on the intercom before reaching for a fresh pair of latex gloves. �Doctor Fraiser to the Infirmary, please. Doctor Fraiser to the Infirmary.�

Jack lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. The adrenaline brought on by the urgency of the mission and the unexpected explosion had evaporated somewhere between the Gateroom and Hell�s kitchen, otherwise known as the Infirmary. His thigh was throbbing steadily now. Each heartbeat spawned a fresh lance of agony from knee to groin.

I suppose it could be worse, I could have fallen on my knee.

The thought served as a not so gentle reminder that the hike through the flood ravaged basin had wreaked havoc on his aging joints. Knees and back were protesting the excursion in quieter, but no less stringent tones. He squirmed on the bed, trying for a comfortable position as invisible hands cut up his pants leg.

�Do you want something for the pain, Sir?�

Do I want something? What the hell kind of a question is that?

Jack suppressed a hissing sigh as the orderly removed his clothing and began to examine the injury.

Want wasn�t at issue, unfortunately necessity was going to dictate the reply. He groaned inwardly and cracked an eyelid, trying not to look at the younger man�s busy, blood stained fingers. �Just get it out of there would you?�

The orderly looked up at the grunted order and shook his head fractionally. �Sir, it�s in there deep. You may need surgery to close up the wound.�

Surgery? I�ve had bigger splinters!

The inner bravado sounded weak above the roar of his racing pulse. Jack rolled his head from side to side, considering and rejecting a myriad of acerbic replies.

Clack, clack, clack�

Oh terrific!

He turned towards the approaching sound and winced when Janet strolled into view. Annoyance and concern battled their way across her drawn features as she paused in the doorway. �Colonel?�

Jack bit his lip as a fresh bolt of pain erupted beneath the Orderly�s manipulation. Her dark, brown eyes wandered the length and breadth of his sweaty frame. Clearly adding the worn phrase �now what� by virtue of their extensive examination. �Hi, Doc,� he croaked tightly.

For cryin� out Loud, rescue my sorry ass from Doctor Clumsy Fingers would you!

The apt clich� �out of the frying pan and into the fire� came to mind as the internal plea fought to exit his arid mouth. The doctor was way too fond of her needles for Jack�s taste. Not that he was seriously considering yet another lengthy sabbatical in Janet�s house of horrors. In spite of the presence of a large hunk of metal, and the threatened geyser beneath, he was still convinced that he would be going offworld. Returning to Carter with some form of Siler�s explosives, and a big honkin bandage on his leg. The Ordinance was needed to remove a large section of rock face in order to adequately drain the flood waters away from the mine. SG-8 had been recalled due to injury and for simple exhaustion. Demolition was not a typical assignment for SG-1, but they were on stand down and therefore available in case of emergency.

The Orderly bumped against the shrapnel eliciting a spate of multicolored spots before Jack�s bleary eyes. A sudden buzzing overrode the rush of pounding blood in his ears, casting doubt for the first time on his earlier assumption. Jack licked his lips, annoyed and concerned at the lack of saliva. �You wanna take over here!� he managed weakly.

�Well I could,� Janet said slowly, the hint of a smile lifting her lips.

Oh wonderful, the needle monger has a sense of humor!

Still her attempted levity proved one thing, he wasn�t in dire straits. Jack stared hard at the ceiling. Trying to discern a pattern in the worn tiles behind the dancing pain spots.

Hmmm, I never noticed that the tiles in the far corner were darker. Water damage? A leak in the locker room? Oh wait, that�s down two levels. Temporary quarters are up there�

Son of a b�!

His vision blurred and clouded to near blackness at a sudden hot flare.

What the hell are you doing?

Jack tore a ragged chunk from his lip and concentrated on controlling the obscenities attempting to exit his cottony mouth. Janet�s heart shaped visage swam into view. She wiped the sweat from his forehead and offered what could only be termed a long-suffering smile. �We�re going to have to take it out in the O.R. Sir, I�m sorry.�

He shook his head. Dammit, Siler! �I have to get back��

�No, Sir. You won�t be going anywhere now.�

This is ridiculous! Jack pushed his knuckles into the bed and attempted to sit up. The world spun alarmingly and he fell back, breathless. Then again� �Carter� needs those explosives��

Janet turned and spoke to the Orderly who drifted off in the direction of the intercom. His words were low and clipped as he relayed her orders in spite of Jack�s protest.

Hey wait a minute! I know I was speaking out loud� Wasn�t I?

�Just try and relax, Colonel. We�ll have you in and out in no time.�

In and out? The phrase conjured all sorts of interesting connotations. Jack opened his mouth to protest, but only a shallow puff of air escaped. He felt oddly detached. The gyrating spots of light had coalesced into a broad, brilliant sheet. It stretched across his vision, painting people and objects alike with a translucent stain of rainbows. The tones were striking. He reached out, ordering his fingers to caress the undulating hues falling across his chest.

�Colonel? Stay with me now. You�ve lost a lot of blood��

The clumsy digits on his right hand refused to cooperate. He could see the quivering fingertips resting on the blanket through the milky haze, but sensation was conspicuously absent. As if his hand, his arm, had somehow become disconnected.

Odd�

Houston, we have a problem� Doc? Janet?

She drifted through the darkening prism. Approaching and receding as a flurry of white coated staff moved in and around him. Jack blinked, amazed at the slow motion reaction of his eyelids. Concern was starting to replace fascination. Out right panic was niggling at the back of consciousness, vying for attention as he struggled to stay coherent.

�On our way, Sir. You�re going to be fine.�

If you say so�

He shivered as a bevy of hands snuck beneath his body and eased him onto a gurney.

All this just because planet PX�oh screw it! Just because some stupid rock has a Noah�s Ark complex! There�s not that much damage my ass!

What Goes Around...

�Colonel?�

Jack cracked an eyelid and winced. What?

�Do you know where you are?�

His drunken gaze drifted down the length of his prone form. A figure stood at the foot of the bed. It/she was holding something. He squinted and the speaker doubled and morphed, eventually evolving into a nurse dressed in sea foam green scrubs. She pivoted and regarded him over the top of wire frame glasses, her hand poised above what appeared to be a clipboard.

Where?

His eyes flicked to the monitors and equipment that lined the far wall. Lights blinked in colorful, dizzying succession adding a perverted cheer to the sterile feeling room. Monitors hissed and the steady blip of various machines created a muted beat that was almost musical in nature. Almost�

Mardi Gras?

The ridiculous conclusion pulled the skin of his lips into a twisted grimace. The flesh felt unnaturally dry and Jack was sure it would crack any moment. Baring the bones beneath to the harsh glare of the overhead lights, and the critical gaze of his current overseer.

The Lord in question drifted into his blurred periphery bringing the cloying odors of disinfectant and sickness with her. Jack swallowed the pasty saliva clogging his throat and groaned inwardly. �Hell�s Kitchen,� he whispered raggedly.

She smiled, shattering the image his muzzy brain insisted upon. �Otherwise known as Recovery. At least your sense of humor is intact.�

Just great� Jack closed his eyes and studied the tracery of blood vessels backlit by the fluorescents above his head. A return to consciousness had signaled a slow defrosting in his thigh. The nerves were reawakening in fits and starts. Tingling the flesh and telegraphing a dull, mounting throb across his livening synapses. Full awareness would no doubt herald a significant rise on the pain meter. Did God listen to crotchety Colonels? He swallowed a second groan and prayed for a reprieve from an anesthetic headache that could make last 4th of July seem like a five year olds� birthday bash.

�Colonel?�

Go away�He willed his hand to wave her off and sighed in frustration when the fingers remained stubbornly immobile. Need to work on that I guess. Failing dismissal, he forced his eyes open and tried to focus on her face. �What?�

�How�s the pain? Scale of 1-10, Sir, 10 being the highest.�

He stifled the absurd urge to blurt out 42. The woman was obviously the queen of patience, but he doubted delirious pain induced sarcasm was high on her list. Unfortunately no clear answer presented itself. The consensus from below his waist was constantly changing. Currently it was a five. Jack attempted to shift position to relieve a kink in his back. An arrow of pain shot from thigh to groin and up into his chest. He tore a fresh hole in his lip and lay very still. Suddenly engrossed by the monumental task of breathing past a wave of nausea that threatened to soil the attentive nurse�s crisp uniform. �42,� he hissed.

The woman did not bat an eyelash. �I see.� She reached out of his field of vision and the I.V. tubing slid across the sheet as she made an adjustment. �I�ll kick it up a notch, Sir. Doctor Fraiser will be in shortly.�

Jack managed a stiff nod and she drifted off, scribbling into the chart as she walked.

He concentrated on remaining absolutely quiet from the neck down, stilted inhalations being the only exception. Even the slightest twitch appeared to be enough incentive for his injured thigh to scream its displeasure. Over the long minutes his left ankle developed a distinct need for a good flex and crack and a burning itch settled above his belly button. He ignored the entreaties of joint and skin, frantically banking on the pain meds the nurse had increased.

The sharp clack of Janet Fraiser�s heals sliced through the encroaching haze of the medication. Jack blinked owlishly. Only vaguely disturbed that the doctor�s normally soft features had taken on the distinct ruddiness of various devil interpretations fabled in song and story. He would not have been at all surprised if she sprouted a second head, complete with glowing eyes and a forked tongue.

�Colonel?�

�Um?� They did call it �happy juice� after all. If one could call the contemplation of Satan in Hell�s Kitchen a happy experience. His leg, his whole body in fact, was swathed in a soothing numbness. The need to move or speak slipping rapidly away as a dusky curtain descended over his blurring vision.

�Comfortable?� Janet asked, her voice sounding tin-like and distant.

Jack tried to nod and felt a stab of disappointment when nothing happened. Speech was a second, rather draining option. He opened his mouth. His tongue flicked across his parched lips, rebelling at the command to form and utter words. He settled for a sigh as darkness closed in completely

*******

�Son of a bitch.�

�Sir?�

Jack flinched at the soft voice to his left and dared to slit one eyelid. The muted light from across the room was enough to send a cavalcade of painful pinpricks skittering across his vision. The display would have been amusing, if it didn�t hurt so damn much. �What?� he rasped irritably.

�Doctor Fraiser will want to know you�re wake. I�ll be right back.�

Yeah, great, just freakin peachy�He bit back a string of expletives and tried to relax against the pillows. It wasn�t the nurse�s fault he had become a casualty in Siler�s attempt to �build a better mousetrap, substitute explosive�. Still his ire yearned for a target. The irrepressible, and absent Sergeant, was a prime candidate.

Jack�s mind drifted, temporarily incapable of analyzing the reasons why he was currently incarcerated in Fraiser�s cheery corner of purgatory. The confusion annoyed him almost as much as the headache that had driven him from leaden sleep to pulsing, pounding awareness.

Did I ever tell anyone how much I hate general anesthesia?

Clack, clack, clack�

The steady, piercing beat of the diminutive doctor�s feet on the polished concrete elicited an undignified groan from Jack�s parched throat. He didn�t bother to camouflage his pain, or irritation, as she stepped to the side of the bed and picked up his chart.

�Rubber.�

�Excuse me?� Janet mumbled without looking up.

�For your shoes, Doc. For cryin� out loud don�t you know there are sick people in here?�

She glanced at him, a wry smile resting on her full, red lips. �Well right now you are my only patient and I don�t like rubber. It squishes.�

Jack rolled his eyes and stared hard at the ceiling. �Thanks for your consideration.�

�Any time.� She placed the clipboard on the bedside table and gave him a full on stare. �So, repeat after me.�

�Huh?�

The cheery, brown eyes hardened as she tapped her foot. �Repeat. I Colonel Jack O�Neill.�

He repeated her in a breathy whisper, curious and mildly annoyed.

�Will get the hell out of dodge the next time Sergeant Siler attempts an �experiment� with live explosives.�

Jack chuckled in spite of her stern expression and dutifully repeated the admonishment.

�Headache?� She asked quietly when he had recovered his wind.

�Yeah. When did Hammond order the jackhammers?�

Janet nodded. �I�ve got you on a pretty high dose of painkillers for that leg, but I�ll see what I can do.� Her gaze dropped below his waist. �The damage was a bit more than I expected.�

�Apparently.� He watched her studying his inert form, a pensive frown wrinkling the smooth skin of mouth and brow. The good doctor was an attractive woman. The observation sent a jolt of disconcertingly coherency through Jack�s clearing mind. Leaving him to wrestle with a gnawing, and ultimately unjustified guilt, that his situation had marred the lovely features with an air of concern.

How did an old warhorse like me rate the good fortune of being surrounded by so many attractive women?

A bevy of familiar faces passed through Jack�s mind as Janet moved off. Some of them he knew well, several were part of the med staff, which possessed a certain unnerving irony. A few were just that, faces he saw several times a week. Names only barely attached to visages of varying shades. The one blonde, blue-eyed countenance, which was particularly comforting to contemplate, shifted slowly into the blurred lens of recollection. Jack started as memory abruptly cleared.

�Where�s Carter?�

Janet returned to the bedside, a filled syringe held delicately in one hand. �I was wondering when you would wake up enough to ask.�

He suppressed the urge to chastise her for withholding information, and tried not to look at the needle as it descended towards the I.V. line. �Has anyone heard from them?�

�Yes. SG-1 is fine. While you were in Recovery I spoke to General Hammond. He said the shaped charge Siler brought through was exactly what was needed to clear away the debris and form a new channel.� Janet shrugged and injected the needle. �Whatever that means. They should be back in about an hour.�

Jack relaxed, anticipating the warmth and numbness of the drugs. �That�s good to hear�� His eyelids were closing and he reached for the gauzy veil, high with relief. A thought occurred and he fought hard to form a coherent question. �Siler went through the Gate?�

The pages on his chart rustled and then Janet patted his shoulder. �Yes, you heard right.�

�That�s a new one,� Jack managed dully. He smirked, recalling his first trips and the effects the wormhole had on body and brain. �How did he do?�

�Tossed his cookies.�

Jack could almost hear her smile as he drifted off to sleep.

*THE*END*