Bugged
Author: BadgerGater
Email: [email protected]
Season:
Pairing: None
Warnings: Several four letter words
Rating: Anyone
Category: Sequel
Spoilers: Small Victories
Summary: You know I couldn’t let Jack off so easy after those nasty little bugs; oh, and it includes one of my absolute all time most-favorite Jack lines-- "They had asses?"
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent. I don't own Stargate SG-1. It would be damn different if I did.
Author's Pledge: The real Jack O'Neill, presented with honest, accurate information about the fic so that the potential reader may make an informed decision on whether or not to read.
Author's Note: Thanks to all those who feedback. It's not an easy time to be a Fan of Jack, but we persevere.
==============================
They were surrounded, cut off from their only options to escape. The freakin’ bugs were everywhere, devouring the ship bit by bit, creating more of their own kind by the minute. No matter which way he turned, there were more, too many to shoot, to many to stomp, too many to go around, too freakin' many-- "You better go ahead and blow this thing!" Colonel Jack O'Neill shouted at the men he knew were listening and watching via the radios and cameras he and Teal'c wore.
On the other end of the communications gear, Daniel Jackson answered, "That's not exactly a positive attitude, Jack!"
Jack ripped the helmet off his head, turning the camera so it faced back at himself. Shouting to be heard over the constant metallic din of the replicators running rampant through the sub, O’Neill stared into the lens. "Listen to me," he shouted. "We are not getting out of here! Mission accomplished. Blow it!"
He thought that had been the end, when he’d given that order, at least, when he’d finally given the order to Davis. Daniel might not be able to do it, but Davis was a Major in the United States Air Force and *he* damn well better know how to follow orders. Even if he was a Pentagon desk jockey, Davis had better know that sometimes you sacrificed the few for the safety of the many. The Major had been around long enough to know that sometimes the jig was up and you failed and all your guys didn’t come home again. You did your job and you took your losses, accepting the fact that sometimes, good men died for a good cause.
Jack dropped the helmet and started firing his weapon again, hopeless though he knew it was. He couldn’t stop fighting, he couldn’t quit, he didn’t know how. The damn things were swarming like flies to a roadkill, he thought in what he figured would be his last frantic moments. He just hoped the torpedo would kill them before the bugs did, before those things began eating them alive.
The gun roared and bucked in his hands. This was the way he'd always thought he would die, gun in hand, facing the enemy, doing his duty—
Jack spared a fraction of a second to look over at Teal'c, making eye contact with the big Jaffa, hoping the alien could catch the wordless apology in his gaze.
The moment was broken by the shock of the torpedo striking, knocking him off his feet. O’Neill went down hard on the cushionless metal floor, the graceless landing jarring his knees. As the sub in her death throes buckled and shuddered beneath him, Jack felt one of those bugs leap onto his back. Its sharp claws ripped through his shirt, digging into his flesh as he writhed. More joined the first even as he heard the awful creaks and groans of the sub starting to break apart. Hearing the distant gurgle of rushing water, he took one final, frantic deep breath of air before the sea washed in, though he knew it was futile. Even if by some miracle he could swim free of the imploding vessel, they were too deep, the pressure was too much, the water would be far too cold for survival.
In the last seconds of awareness, another one of the damned things skittered across Jack's calves and more bugs jumped onto his back. Instinctively, his hands came up to protect his face, his body curling into a fetal position. As the icy water swept toward him, his final thought was that at least the damn bugs wouldn’t get him--
And then—well-- one second he’d been there, on the sub, already feeling the rush of cold seawater and the next he was crouching on a floor, still dry, breathing in odd, alien metallic tasting air, looking up in shocked surprise to see Carter and Thor—
Carter and Thor? He looked around and discovered he was on Thor's ship.
Hot damn.
He *loved* that little gray guy. "Now, *that’s* timing!"
"We came as soon as we could, Sir," Carter explained.
Jack staggered over toward the Jaffa, who was still down. "Teal'c, you all right?" he asked, placing his hand on Teal'c's shoulder, then patting the bald head.
"I am, O'Neill."
"I take it things weren't going well," Carter asked.
"Oh, we had things handled pretty good." Kind of. Sort of. If you looked at it one way, his way.
"So the bugs are all taken care of down there?" she persisted.
"Pretty much. You?" he smiled, changing the subject.
"We kicked their asses."
Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise. "They had asses?"
Carter laughed. "The Asgard had this big new ship, The O'Neill--"
Cool, thought Jack, squaring his shoulders proudly. "Oh, yeah?"
"But, we had to blow it up."
Jack’s face fell, his grin disappearing.
From across the room, Thor spoke up. "The Asgard are most grateful. One day we will repay you by helping to fight the Goa'uld."
"One day?" Jack asked, disappointed.
"Saving one Asgard planet is a small victory, O'Neill. The conflict with the replicators stretches across my galaxy. Major Carter's strategy worked this time but the replicators are very intelligent, it may not work again."
Jack nodded. "I get it."
"However, now there is hope where once there was none," Thor added.
Carter smiled at the small alien. "You ever need any more dumb ideas, you know where to find me."
Thor nodded in his usual stately way. "Until we meet again."
O’Neill’s grin was back. "Yeah. Hey, listen! Stop by anytime. In fact, I'll take ya fishin'. I'd love to do that. There's this lake in Minnesota," Jack stretched his arms wide, "where the bass grow THAT big--"
~~~~~~~~~~
"--I mean, that big." Once again, he’d flashed from one place to another in the blink of an eye, from Thor’s ship to the SGC gateroom ramp, he and Carter and Teal’c. Jack's head snapped around as the warning klaxons began blaring and SFs raced into the room, guns raised. O'Neill spun around, raising his arms in the universal gesture of surrender. "Easy! It’s us!"
General Hammond trotted in through the doorway, staring at them in surprise. "Colonel? Major?"
"Yes, Sir, Colonel, Major, alien good guy," O’Neill pointed at each as he named them.
Hammond waved a stand-down signal at the SFs, and they lowered their guns. Turning back to his surprising arrivals, "How the blazes did you get here, Colonel?" he asked. "Weren’t the two of you on that sub? And the Major with the Asgard?"
"Yes, Sir," Carter spoke up. "Thor and I got back from the Asgard battle just in time for him to pull the Colonel and Teal’c off that sub."
O'Neill nodded in agreement. "Absolutely just in the nick of time, too, I might add, Sir. Another few seconds and we’d have been swimming with the fishes--"
"We could not swim in water so cold or so deep, O’Neill," Teal’c intoned solemnly.
The SG-1 commander rolled his eyes at Teal’c’s remark. "And much as I like fish, I really don’t want to *live* with ‘em, Sir," Jack added, smiling broadly.
Hammond bit back a chuckle. "Well, this should be an interesting debrief, people. Report to the briefing room when you’ve been cleared by Dr. Fraiser. Say 1500?"
"Yes, Sir," Carter answered.
"Yes, General," O’Neill agreed, "interesting indeed." Placing a hand on Carter’s shoulder, he added, "Major, I just can’t wait to hear about those replicator asses," he smirked. The grin quickly disappeared, however, as O’Neill suddenly felt a flash of pain ripple across his back. He took a stumbling step, Teal’c reaching forward to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
"O’Neill, are you injured?"
Jack rolled his shoulders, realizing the adrenaline was finally leaving his system, and he could now feel the damage to his back, the raw skin abrading against the roughness of his shirt. He’d forgotten all about the replicator ‘bites’ in the sudden unexpected flush of surviving another impossible mission. "Those little critters not only had asses, they had teeth," he explained, walking a bit more carefully as the trio started for the infirmary.
~~~~~~~~~
"There doesn’t seem to be anything here but some scratches and a number of tiny punctures, Colonel," Doctor Fraiser was probing O’Neill’s bare back with her glove covered hands, completing the final step of the returnees normal post-mission tests. O’Neill was sitting, shirtless, on an exam table, long legs dangling off to one side, hands braced against the table. "Looks like you were a lot luckier than Teal’c. Your MRI and scans didn’t show any embedded foreign substances."
"So what hurts? Beside that acid you're pouring on my back," he hunched his shoulders at the sting caused by whatever liquid she was applying to the damaged skin.
"It's disinfectant. You've got some nasty abrasions here. There was only a small amount of bleeding. Fortunately, nothing deep enough to need stitches, Sir. I’d suggest some aspirin and a good night’s sleep," Fraiser finished her work and stepped around to stand in front of him. "I’ll want to see you again tomorrow, Colonel, just to make sure there’s no infection."
"Good, then, I can go? Wouldn’t want to keep the General waiting," O’Neill smiled wearily, picking up the t-shirt which he suddenly realized had dozens of tiny holes dotting the back. It looked, he thought, amazingly like Swiss cheese. Or a sieve.
Janet Fraiser grinned in answer. "Yes. You can. But just take it easy tonight, okay, Colonel?"
"Always," he grinned, slipping the shirt over his head. Strolling out of the infirmary, O’Neill glanced at his watch. Eleven minutes, hmm, just enough time for a quick shower and clean clothes. Stepping up the pace of his strides, he headed for the locker room.
Seven minutes later, he was out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, gathering up clean white briefs, black t-shirt, blue BDU trousers and shirt. Discarding the towel, he dressed quickly, lastly sitting down to pull on fresh white socks and slide his feet into his boots. They were a tad dusty, but it was okay. Hammond wasn’t a stickler for military perfect dress, thank God, especially in post mission briefings with tired teams who wanted nothing more than to go home.
Jack strode through the hallways, then trotted up the stairs to the briefing room just as Hammond stepped out of his adjoining office. Teal’c and Carter were already seated. "Heard from Daniel, Sir?" O'Neill asked.
Hammond smiled. "Yes. Dr. Jackson, Sergeant Siler and Major Davis are on their way back. They’ll be here within a couple of hours. I did get a brief phone report on what transpired from their end, so let’s hear your report, Colonel."
The debrief lasted just over an hour, O’Neill relating his and Teal'c's experience in the sub, and the unexpected rescue by Thor. Carter added her report on the events with the Asgard, leaving out the ‘kicked their asses’ phrase, much to Jack’s disappointment.
Still, everyone was all smiles as Hammond wrapped up the debriefing. "Good job, people. I’ll expect your full reports by the end of the day tomorrow. Dismissed."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack was whistling as he headed for his office, grabbed his jacket and navigated his way through the busy hallways toward the elevator. Swiping his security card through the reader, he waited impatiently for the car to arrive. Hurrying in as soon as the door opened, he punched the up button, and then, with a sigh, settled back to lean against the wall.
"Ow!" he jerked forward. He’d forgotten all about his back. Guess those pills Doc had given him had worked pretty well. As he leaned forward, he felt the twitching of a muscle spasm in his back. Damn. Maybe he’d been a bit quick to think Doc’s meds had done the trick. All that climbing around in the claustrophobically tight spaces of the Russkie sub-- damn things were built for midgets, he thought despairingly, not six foot plus, long in the tooth Colonels.
Reaching the surface at last, O’Neill signed out and walked out to the parking lot. Climbing carefully into his truck, trying not to let his back rub against the seat, which was *damn* near impossible, he started the vehicle and drove home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Home.
He’d thought he would never see it again.
O’Neill shivered at the memory of being trapped on that sub with all those creepy crawly alien mechanical *things*. He wasn’t sure if they were more like spiders or crabs or maybe scorpions with their nasty stingers. He shuddered again, a cold chill winding down his spine with the memory of those bugs crawling on him, skittering over his legs and his back, each of their steps a tiny pinprick, like dozens of mosquito bites--
Ewwwww.
Time for a distraction.
He rummaged around in the cupboard and found a can of soup, making himself a cheese sandwich while the stew heated. Taking his food and a beer into the living room, he switched on the TV, surfing channels until he found the evening hockey wrap-up report, and settled happily on the couch, careful of his tender back.
~~~~~~~~
He must have fallen asleep on the couch, he realized with surprise. The house around him was dark, lit only by the flickering images on the TV where some overly-excited guy was hyping the attributes of a workout machine. Jack snorted derisively. Workout machine. As if he didn’t get enough workout dodging aliens. Really. If it wasn’t the snakes, it was the spiders-- geesh.
Groggily, he sat up, wincing as his back protested the move. Climbing unsteadily to his feet and walking stiffly, he lamented the cumulative effects of age of the human body. He just couldn’t take the physical battering he used to, he thought sourly as he snapped off the TV and hobbled up the steps from the living room up to the hallway to his bedroom.
Once inside, he peeled off his clothes, leaving only briefs and t-shirt, and sank gratefully into his bed, on his stomach, pulling the covers up over his shoulders, slipping quickly back to sleep.
~~~~~~~~
O’Neill slept restlessly, tossing and turning, twisting himself 'round and 'round in the sweat slicked sheets, plagued by ugly dreams of *things* climbing on his back, of his back burning, of something crawling over him, crawling under his skin, burrowing into his back, like a million ants-- or spiders.
With a start, Jack awakened. He knew he couldn’t have been asleep long, the moon was still visible through his window, so he couldn’t have been in bed more than a couple of hours.
Sleepily, he wondered why his back hurt so much, like he had one hell of a sunburn, and then he remembered all those nasty little bug bites. One by itself was no big deal, but his back had been covered with dozens of little teeth or claw or stinger marks. And each of them was stinging now.
He lifted his head, rolling from his side onto his stomach, pulling his arms underneath his chest to push himself up off the bed. Suddenly, intense pain raced across his back. "God," he moaned, as another spasm tore through his back muscles. Weird, it was so weird, it felt like there was something there, on his back or under his skin, something sliding or skittering, moving around-- like a tiny version of those damned bugs.
"Oh God." Doc had cleared him, he’d had all the usual tests plus half a dozen extras and there’d been nothing. Teal’c had been attacked by those things, one of them had bored a hole in the Jaffa’s back, one that fortunately healed quickly because of the Chulakian’s symbiote. But Doc hadn’t found anything like that on him.
Groaning, Jack levered himself off the bed, pain surging so sharply it made him gasp and stagger. Still bent nearly double, he was unable to straighten, his back stiff and unyielding. "Damn," he muttered. Stumbling forward, he headed for the bathroom, suddenly lightheaded and nauseous, from the intense pain or something else, he wasn’t sure which. Both maybe. Bracing himself with one arm against the wall, he made it into the bathroom before another wave of pain rolled across his back, coiling down through his gut. The whole room began to waver and his knees buckled. Jack only managed to keep from crashing to the floor by grabbing onto the side of the sink. He held himself there until the muscle spasm subsided, and then shakily he got back upright and turned on the tap. With one hand still bracing himself against the wall, O'Neill splashed cold water in his face with the other.
He needed to figure out what was going on, which meant turning on the light, which he really didn’t want to do because he had a bad feeling, a really bad feeling, about this whole weird thing. Once again he felt his skin crawl. It was one creepy feeling, like something was moving *under* his skin, more than one something, actually.
He arched his back in sudden agony, pain rippling across his back, shooting upward toward his shoulders, down toward his toes, clear to his fingertips as he moaned, "Ah, God, ah," clutching the cabinet once more for support.
The phone. He had to get to the phone and call Doc because something was very definitely wrong here.
Leaning heavily against the wall, he staggered back into the bedroom, falling heavily across the covers as another wave of pain rippled across the muscles of his back. Fighting to hold onto consciousness, fighting to hold back the shout of pain that threatened to erupt from his throat, somehow he reached for the phone, pulling it off the little bedside stand. Hands shaking, he dialed, waiting anxiously for the familiar voice to answer.
~~~~~~~~
Janet Fraiser had been sound asleep, enjoying a night at home in the company of her daughter, all too rare a thing as Cassie grew up. The girl had turned into a social butterfly, someone incredibly at home in Colorado Springs, especially considering she’d been born on another planet and moved to Earth only after being orphaned and adopted by the Chief Medical Officer of the Stargate Program. It was a rare thing for Doc to get to spend a quiet night at home with her teenager.
The ringing phone roused her instantly from pleasant dreams and she reached unerringly for the device in the dark of her bedroom. Her phone rang like this far too often, she thought dismally. "Fraiser here."
Janet hardly recognized the soft voice on the other end of the line. Gone was the usual spark and strength she expected. "Doc--"
"Colonel?" Janet’s mind raced. O’Neill wouldn’t be calling her at this hour unless he needed something, and he wouldn't admit to needing something unless it was a fullblown emergency. Her worry spiked. "Colonel, what’s wrong?"
"I’m not sure. My back-- arrggghhh."
Shit. Shit shit shit. He’d been okay, she knew that. She wouldn’t have released him if she hadn’t been absolutely 100% sure. Yes, he had those little ‘bug’ marks on his back, but she’d run scans of every sort from every possible angle. "Sir?"
"Back-- spasms," he gasped in a rasping voice that betrayed pain.
"Colonel. Hold on. I’ll be right there." Janet was already halfway out of bed, grabbing her clothes with one hand even as she hit the phone’s speed dial button with the other. The phone rang twice before being picked up. "Captain Bernardo here."
"Captain. This is Dr. Fraiser. I want an ambulance and medics to meet me at Colonel O’Neill’s house. Stat."
"Yes ma’am," answered the voice from the other end of the line.
~~~~~~~~
Janet hoped this late at night there weren’t any cops prowling the quiet streets of Colorado Springs as she raced across town. Light traffic meant she could make a quick dash to the Colonel’s house, every moment fraught with worry over what was happening.
Pulling up in front of his neat split level on the quiet suburban street, noting the lack of lights, Janet grabbed her medical bag off the seat and hurried up the walk. She rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. Hurrying around the side of the house toward the deck, she reached under the third potted plant and pulled out the hidden key. Carefully unlocking the side door, she entered the quiet house, calling "Colonel O’Neill? It’s Dr. Fraiser. Colonel?"
She nearly stumbled over a chair and the coffee table before finding a light switch. "Colonel?" she called out again.
There was a faint answer from upstairs and down the hall, and she hurried through the house.
Knocking once on the half open door, she pushed it the rest of the way open. O’Neill lay sprawled across the bed covers, on his chest, shivering in his sweat dampened shirt and briefs. "Colonel?"
He raised glazed looking brown eyes to meet her, pasting a sickly smile on his face. "Hi Doc," he said softly. "Sorry to drag you out."
"That’s okay, Sir. What’s--"
She didn’t finish her sentence as O’Neill suddenly spasmed, his back arching, his eyes slamming shut as a grimace replaced the grin on his face. An agonized moan rolled out of his throat as he writhed, his hands clawing at his back.
Janet pulled up his shirt, and gasped.
Halfway between his shoulderblades and his waist, just under his skin, millimeters from his spine, was an inch high, irregular shaped lump. As she stared in horrified fascination, the tissue mass rippled, as if moving. With horror, she saw another spot, smaller but also moving, undulating under his skin, millimeter by millimeter, from near his armpit, toward the other mass.
"God!" he writhed again, arms flailing on the bed. "What is it? What is it?"
"Sir, easy."
"Doc?" The brown eyes were anxious, worried.
"Colonel, there’s some *thing*, I think maybe it’s a replicator piece--"
"One of those things, in my back?" he gasped.
"No, more like pieces. Trying to assemble." She could see several more small bits of moving tissue now, like small squarish marbles beneath his skin.
"Bugs? In my bac—argghhh!" he bit off his words as another spasm washed across his back. "Doc! Do something!" he rasped.
"Colonel, an ambulance is on the way. We’ll get you back to the infirmary and we’ll fix you up."
He tried to smile up at her. "Promise, Doc?"
"Yes, Colonel." She wiped the sweat-soaked hair back off his forehead, the only comfort she could give at the moment. "Just hold on."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She knew it was only minutes before she heard the ambulance pull up out in front, but it had seemed like hours, sitting next to the pain-wracked man. Even as she watched she could see the small masses moving under his skin, each movement generating agonizing spasms that left O’Neill writhing and gasping, his hand clasping hers so hard she was afraid her fingers were broken.
"Down here! Hurry!" she called, and was rewarded by the clatter of a pair of orderlies carrying a stretcher into the house and down the hallway. Quickly, they loaded the Colonel, lying on his stomach, onto the stretcher and carried him out to the waiting ambulance.
She climbed in beside him for the ride to the base, her mind whirling with ideas on what was happening, wondering how to fix this, and how the hell she’d managed to miss whatever this was.
The good news was that O’Neill’s vitals were good, considering the situation and the amount of pain he was obviously experiencing. He was still conscious, though lying quietly now, eyes closed, but his hand was still gripping hers with painful intensity. Every now and then, the pressure of his fingers would magnify and his heart rate would quicken and his breathing catch, his face scrunching up with pain, and she knew he was having another spasm. She wished she could give him something for the pain, but it was too dangerous, not when she didn’t know what was going on. All she could do for the moment was mutter reassuring platitudes to remind him he wasn’t alone, and that real help was getting nearer by the minute.
~~~~~~~~
As soon as they wheeled O’Neill into the infirmary, Janet was issuing orders to the nursing staff, calling for a host of tests even before Jack's gurney was moved into the isolation area. Blood was drawn and rushed off to the lab. The portable x-ray was brought in, but the films showed nothing.
They’d have to move him again, do an MRI, hoping whatever was there under his skin would show up on the scan. "Sir, we need to do an MRI," she explained as the orderly began moving him toward the lab.
Within moments, they had the Colonel ready for the scan. Janet leaned over toward O’Neill, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Colonel, we’re ready to start. I know you’re in pain, but we need you to hold as still as you can."
Fraiser had to lean down close to his face to understand his mumbled reply. "Gotta get my good side on the pictures, right Doc?"
"Yes, Sir." She gave him a final reassuring pat on the arm, stepping out of the room and waving at the operator.
Jack tried to keep as still as he could, occupying his mind by silently recalling every curse word he knew. He knew a lot, that’s one thing you learned in 20 plus years in the military, how to swear in at least a dozen different languages, and more. "Aaagh," he bit his lip as pain speared through his back again, grimly ordering himself to hold still. It was just going to be another minute. Just a minute. He could handle a minute. A minute was easy. And then when that minute was up, there was another minute, but it would be as easy as the last one, see? A minute at a time. You could make it through just about anything, a minute at a time.
At last, the scan was done, and he was emerging once more from the machine. Another transfer, hands trying to be gentle, but just the easy jostling from the MRI machine’s cot back onto the gurney tore a groan from his throat as the spasms washed through him once again. "Damn damn damn damn damn," he chanted under his breath as he was wheeled back into the infirmary.
~~~~~~~~~
Fraiser stepped back to the Colonel’s side. "Sir, I’m going to need to take a look at what’s under the skin. I’ll need to make an incision and remove one of these--" Janet suddenly didn’t know what word to use: Creatures? Devices? Parts? Finally she settled for, "things, for study."
His eyes slid open momentarily, and he nodded slightly.
"Sir, I’m going to give you a local anesthetic, something to numb the skin. It will take a couple of minutes."
A momentary sharp pinprick of the needle in his back made him inhale sharply, then Doc’s hand stroked his arm reassuringly. He tried to relax his hands, letting his cramped fingers ease.
Her hand moved, and he could feel it touch his back in that odd way, the same way you could feel when the dentist numbed your jaw to fill a tooth, when you knew you were being touched but you really couldn’t actually *feel* it.
"Is it numb, Colonel?"
He nodded again, without making the monumental effort to open his eyes. "Go on, Doc."
~~~~~~~~~~
Nodding at the nurse, Janet reached out her left hand, laying it against the bumpy skin of O’Neill’s back, thumb and first finger bracketing one of the prominent bumps just below his shoulderblade. Nurse Carroll swabbed the area with disinfectant, and then Janet brought the knife across the skin swiftly, beads of blood popping up as she drew the scalpel deeper, the blood obscuring her view. When the nurse wiped the blood away, the mass was gone. "What?" Her eyes flew up to catch the nurse’s equally puzzled glance.
"I think it-- it moved!" the nurse stated, shocked.
Janet thought a moment, anticipating. So, she’d have to be quicker. "Lee, when I make the incision, have the forceps ready and get hold of it *right* away."
The nurse nodded. Janet took a deep breath, widened the incision, and saw Lee’s quick hand snatch something out from under the skin of the Colonel’s back.
Lee set the thing down carefully in the tray.
Janet peered down, tapping at the thing with the scalpel. It was definitely shaped like a replicator part, like a tiny intricate jigsaw puzzle piece. But it wasn’t hard, not metal or plastic, but more like-- "Living tissue?" she asked herself, puzzled.
"But the replicators are machines," Lee reminded.
"Machines that build new parts out of whatever materials are available. Is it possible that the replicators are reproducing out of the Colonel’s own body tissue?" she wondered aloud.
"But why didn’t any replicator parts show up in the tests earlier today?" Lee was still baffled.
A horrible thought blossomed in the doctor's mind. "There were bodies on the sub. Maybe some of the creatures had built parts out of human tissue. That wouldn’t have shown up on the scans. The Colonel could have been infected when some of the bugs crawled on him on the sub." Janet shuddered, and looked across at the veteran nurse. "So, we need to get all of these ‘pieces’ out of the Colonel’s back. Quickly. Let’s get an OR set up and we’ll have to do the rest under general anesthesia. It will be easier on him."
~~~~~~~~~
Three hours later, an exhausted Janet Fraiser stepped out of the OR, watching as her patient was wheeled down the hallway toward recovery. The corridor was full, O’Neill’s team having arrived sometime during the surgery, and General Hammond, too, all looking worried. She waved a hand at them, letting a weary grin form on her face. "He’s going to be fine," she said with a sigh.
"But what happened?" Daniel asked, his words echoed by Sam’s.
"It’s a long story, guys. Let me get the Colonel settled in and I’ll tell you--"
~~~~~~~~~
His team had been taking turns sitting with him, waiting for O’Neill to wake up. Janet assured them he was doing fine, and that he would wake up when he was ready to, and not before, and there was nothing to worry about. She had removed all the biological bug bits and pieces, and once the anesthesia wore off, he’d be uncomfortable and cranky, which meant he’d need lots of company, lots of pampering and lots of patience, but he would make a complete recovery.
Daniel set aside his books and looked over at his sleeping friend once again. Jack was lying on his back now, medicated well enough that he wouldn’t feel the pain of the incisions and stitches in his back. He looked pale and way too still, but the monitors were beeping softly away in a steady, comforting manner. Every once in a while one of the nurses would come in, check on the Colonel, smile reassuring at Daniel, and then leave on her rounds.
Hours passed. Sam and Teal’c came back from lunch to check.
"How’s he doing?" Sam asked.
"Still sleeping."
"Am not," a groggy voice mumbled from the bed. Bleary looking brown eyes fluttered open, looked around in bewilderment, then sank closed again with a sigh. "How the hell," he rasped past the dryness in his throat, "did I end up here?"
"You don’t remember?" Daniel asked worriedly.
"Nah." There was a pause and then, "Water?" Jack asked hopefully. Carter grabbed a cup off the nearby table, tilting the straw so O’Neill could sip gratefully. The liquid cooled his throat. Felt good, he thought sleepily. Sleeping, that’s what he’d been doing, sleeping, at home, in his own bed. And then his back had started to hurt. Jack re-opened his eyes, looking around and remembering. "Oh. Yeah. Bugs."
"Replicators, O’Neill." Teal'c confirmed.
"Janet removed half a dozen pieces from your back," Carter explained.
"Bugs?" Jack’s eyes shot open again. "But they’re made out of metal. Why didn't they show up on the-" O’Neill managed to wave a hand in the air, "tests, all Doc’s tests. X-rays and such."
"Normally they would, but, ah," Daniel hesitated, "these bugs were, sort of, ah—unusual." He was looking uncomfortably from Teal'c to Carter and back to Teal'c, trying to find a way to say it.
Jack wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but he needed to. All this evasiveness had jarred him wide awake. "How unusual?"
"Very unusual, Sir," Carter's comment didn't clarify things at all.
"Carter, why is it that when I don't want the details, you're just full of them. And when I need a simple explanation, I get nothing at all? Huh? So, spill it."
Carter took a deep breath and began. "As you know, Sir, the Replicators create more of themselves out of whatever materials are available."
"Yes. So?" There was something going on here, something he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like.
Carter looked down, then over at Daniel. Daniel shook his head.
"Would someone please just tell me?"
"The materials available to the replicators included everything that was on board the sub," Carter evaded.
Jack glared at her. "I know that."
"Including—" she looked away.
"Caaarter!" he warned.
"Including human flesh, Sir."
Jack’s eyes flew wide open once more. "The bodies on the sub? " He grimaced. "You mean I had bugs inside me made out of dead people?"
Teal’c nodded.
"Dead *Russian* people bugs?" Jack shuddered. "Well, that’s, that's —" he shuddered again, "that's gross."
"Really, Sir, they're just molecules, regardless of the source they're no different than any other—"
Jack rolled his eyes theatrically. "Carter, they're different. Take my word for it." The Colonel waved at the door. "Just go away, all of you. I need my beauty sleep."
"Bye, Sir," Carter headed for the door.
"Rest well, O'Neill," Teal'c added.
Daniel was the last to leave. "Goodnight, Jack," he said as he left the room.
"Spo'koinoi 'nochi, Daniel."
Jack heard Daniel take three steps down the hallway before the footsteps stopped, and then three fast steps brought the expert on 23 languages quickly back to Jack's doorway. There was an amazed look on Daniel's face. "Jack? That was Russian, bad Russian, granted, but--"
"Da," Jack answered smugly and, smiling enigmatically, closed his eyes. Ignoring Daniel’s curiosity, the Colonel went back to sleep.
---------------The END---------------