Wild Horses

An Epilogue to Message In a Bottle

"Undomesticated equines could not remove me."

Title: Wild Horses

Authors: BadgerGater and Dileeca

Email: [email protected] and [email protected]

Category: Sequel to Message in a Bottle

Rating: PG

Season: 2

Summary: Epilogue, what happened at the close of Message In A Bottle

Warnings: None

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, we only borrowed them; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the authors and may not be posted without the author's consent.

Authors' Notes: A part of this story was inspired by the equine paintings of Bev Doolittle; we bow to her creative and artistic genius. A big thank you to Tanya for her beta-ing prowess.

Hey campers, feedback, please (beg, plead, grovel) We wrote it. You read it. Now tell us what you think. That's an order, from the Colonel. Or make it the General.

<><><><><>

Have I ever felt so exhausted in my whole life? I doubt it.

I have only vague recollections of what had happened to me, and the base, over the past what has it been? Thirty-six hours? It was like I'd watched the whole thing through a hazy curtain, while those parasitic space critters were inside me. Kind of creepy, those critters. But that wasn't half so bad as how the whole thing had started, with the damn metal baseball suddenly coming apart, growing spines and shooting me through the shoulder with a metal spike, pinning me to the wall like some damn insect on a display board. Hurt like hell, too, at least until I got so sick, and Doc pumped me so full of drugs, that I wasn't sure what planet I was on, much less able to feel my shoulder. The rest of the whole event was pretty vague, until I woke up lying flat on my back in the middle of the gateramp, my team surrounding me.

First thing I did, was check my shoulder. No spike, no hole, not even a mark. Whoa. Reassured my team I was fine, and decided it was time to get the heck out of there and head for home, my own bed and about two weeks of sleep, that's how tired I felt.

As I picked myself up off the ramp, with a little help from the team, I staggered, Sam and Daniel propping me up.

"I'm fine," I told them. Funny, but my eyes kept sliding closed at every opportunity.

"No, you're not," said Daniel steering me toward the infirmary.

I stopped, weaving on my feet, "I just need some sleep. I *don't* need the infirmary."

"Oh yes you do, Sir," said Carter.

"Look, my shoulder's, uh, healed, and the infecting thingys are all gone..."

"We don't know that for sure, and you're so tired you can't stand up on your own two feet without help," Daniel added. "You know the drill, Jack, come on. Janet's waiting."

I don't think I'd taken more than a dozen steps when my legs suddenly turned to jelly and I felt myself slipping toward the floor. Teal'c caught me. I was too tired to even feel embarrassed about letting the big Jaffa carry me down to the infirmary.

<><><><><>

Next thing I knew, I was on a bed in the infirmary, pillows propping me up, fighting to keep my eyes open. "Well," said Doc, "your fever *is* down some, though it's not totally gone. I can't find any sign of the parasites, and your shoulder looks like, well, like nothing ever happened to it." She shook her head in amazement.

"Great. So I can go." I started to sit up, suddenly wondering who had turned up the gravity to twice Earth normal, even before Dr. Fraiser pushed me back onto the bed.

"Not so fast, Colonel, I've got more tests..."

I gave her that sideways glance, my patented I'm annoyed and you don't want to be the cause of it look. "I'll sleep better at home."

"No way, Sir. First, I need to verify that you are 100% clear of our little space visitors, and that will take blood tests, and an MRI and I'm not sure what else. You were, after all, the first and most heavily infected. And there's no way you're going to walk out of here. You were running a very high fever, 105-106, and your temp is still well above normal. And not five minutes ago you passed out," Doc said.

"I'm just tired."

"No, Colonel, this is more than just tired. The infirmary is your home for tonight at least."

"But Doc, you're letting others go...." I wheedled.

"Colonel O'Neill, do I have to spell it all out for you? Okay, in addition to what I've already mentioned, due to the extent of your infection, and the orb's spike pinning you to the wall, you were given large doses of antibiotics, sedatives and painkillers. Just on that alone I'd need to keep you under observation, at least until all the meds are clear of your system. And finally, Sir, exhaustion alone would keep you hospitalized. Fighting a fever like that, not to mention the pain you were in, is debilitating in itself. You need rest."

"So I ought to go home to my own bed," I replied stubbornly.

"No, Colonel, I need to finish up all those tests and keep you under observation. I haven't even gotten a look at the miraculous healing of your shoulder. I'll need x-rays and more tests to take a look, make sure there's no residual damage."

"Feels fine," I said, rotating it.

Fraiser shot me a dirty look. "I'm sure it does. Sir. You've got enough painkillers in your system you probably wouldn't even know if it was there or not."

"Aww Doc."

"Don't aww Doc me, Colonel."

"Captain..."

"And don't try to pull rank, either. It won't work, and you know it. You're staying. Now, I've got other patients to check on, but I'll be back, Colonel."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" I asked, as my eyes drifted closed again.

"Both, Sir."

Truthfully I was so exhausted I could hardly sit upright. I simply pulled off my boots, and set my head down on the pillow, intending just to rest a minute before getting undressed.

Colonel O'Neill was lying on the bunk, fully clothed, looking so exhausted even as he slept that I hadn't the heart to wake him up. I simply found a blanket to throw over him and let him sleep while I finished with the check-ups for half a dozen other base personnel, clearing all of them to go home. I didn't have room enough to keep everyone, and, unlike O'Neill, most of them had been only lightly infected. They tested perfectly clear now, so I sent them on their way, making room for those I needed to keep an eye on, like the Colonel.

I glanced across the room at the still sleeping O'Neill. I know the Colonel wanted to go home, I know how much he hates being here. Contrary to what he thinks, I try not to keep him in the infirmary a minute longer than I have to-- he's here often enough as it is. But I was really worried about him. Much as he puts on the tough guy act, he'd been through an ordeal over the past 36 hours and his body would be paying the price, even if he'd suffered no lingering damage to his shoulder.

I shuddered, remembering how I had responded to that call to the gateroom and feeling again my horror at seeing him like that. Pinned to the wall, impaled by the orb's spike, writhing in pain, and I could do nothing to help him. I had to watch while he ordered Teal'c to fire the staff weapon at the orb, and stood helpless to prevent the agony it caused him. Even once I'd been able to start treatment, it was still wrenching to see him like that, and be able to do so little for him.

I'd been in and out of the gateroom all throughout the incident. However, with all the other patients I had needed to tend to, especially Lt. Simmons, plus helping Carter figure out what the parasites were, I'd only been able to spend brief moments with the Colonel. The nursing staff had helped me monitor him, carefully watching his IV's, antibiotics and pain meds. Short handed as we were, I thank God for Teal'c, who stayed with O'Neill through the whole horrifying ordeal.

I'd been astounded by the gentleness shown by the big Jaffa. He and the Colonel were friends, that I knew, but it amazed me how O'Neill willingly accepted Teal'c's help. The Colonel doesn't appreciate being fussed over, heck, if they gave Olympic medals for independence and stubbornness, he'd win the gold in a runaway. It was an incongruous sight, an ill and injured O'Neill, being tended by the warrior Jaffa, tenderly wiping the sweat from the Colonel's feverish brow.

How many hours ago was that, I thought tiredly. Sometimes, this job was just too much, I sighed. I was just a bit weary myself. I wasn't sure I even remembered what my house looked like, much less was able to recall the last time I had been there, or spoke to Cassie.

I looked over again to where the Colonel was sleeping. As a doctor, and especially a military doctor, I know I'm not supposed to get emotionally involved with my patients, but, court martial me for it, I like the Colonel. He's a terrible patient all right, but I don't know of any officer I admire and respect more. He cares about his people. Oh, he hides it very well, he does, but he'd go to hell and back for the people here.

Looking over at O'Neill, I couldn't help remembering the plague from the Land of Light, the incident with the Touched. I'd hardly met the man, at that point, but I will never forget how the Colonel battled his way past the effects of that virus to volunteer himself as a guinea pig to save the others. And yes, I have read his medical records, all of them, even the ones that will turn your stomach. I've seen the scars, the visible ones at least, the others I can only guess at, though I know they're there. After all, I have been witness to a few of his nightmares, here, in the infirmary, in the middle of the night.

So, yeah, I like the colonel and watching him in excruciating pain isn't my idea of a fun way to spend my time. I'm sure that wasn't his favorite pastime, either, pinned to the gateroom wall.

I drifted back to his bed to check on him again. He was uncharacteristically so deeply asleep I was able take his pulse and check his temperature without rousing him. Hmm. I didn't like that, not at all. His pulse was rapid and irregular, he was sweating again and his temperature was back up to 103.

"Colonel?" I touched his shoulder. "Colonel O'Neill?" My heart hammered. He was unresponsive, unconscious. "Nurse," I hollered, as I rolled up O'Neill's sleeve, prepped a vein and hastily drew a blood sample. "Get this to the lab. Now!"

God, what was happening? O'Neill's temp was suddenly spiking, his pulse racing and his breathing shallow. I grabbed an oxygen mask, placed it on his face. We cut away his shirt, got him settled into the bed, slapped monitors into place. All the while he was limp and unresisting.

The nurse was back. There was no sign of the parasites in his blood, but his white count was through the roof.He was fighting some sort of infection and his temperature was soaring dangerously, hitting 104, threatening 105. Quickly, I added another dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics to the hastily inserted IV, wrapped him in a cooling blanket, and assigned a nurse to sponge his chest and face, working to bring his fever down. Careful, Janet, careful, I reminded myself. Much as I wanted to get that fever under control, to get his temperature back down, I knew pushing too hard could send him into shock. This was like walking a tightrope, between doing what we could to help and doing too much and making things worse.

As I stood, mind racing with possibilities and questions, I saw him shiver. Then his whole body shuddered once, and again, and he seized, his body spasming on the bed. "Damn, where are the rest of those test results? What's happening?" I shouted as I raised the siderails on the bed.

He quieted, then seized again. "Come on, Colonel, come on, come on, come on."

Once more he lay still, unconscious, unresponsive, and then as I watched in horror, he seized a third time.

Then he arrested.

Alarms blared. "Code blue!" someone hollered, and a team was there, bagging him, starting CPR as the crash cart was wheeled in. A nurse was counting compressions as I injected 1 mg epinephrine. Oh Lord, it would be so stupid to lose him now. Grabbing a kit, I intubated him, as the nursing staff worked around me.

Nothing, God, no change. The nursing staff was working frantically, performing CPR.

He was not responding. Help us out here, Colonel, I told him silently. Don't give up on us. Don't.

"Atropine, 1 mg, now," I told a nurse. Minutes passed, we continued CPR...two, three, nothing. I injected another mg of epinephrine, praying to see a change, my mind racing through an endless list of possible causes, treatments, solutions.

Then a lab tech dashed in the door, waving sheets of test results at me. "His calcium level..."

I grabbed the papers. Oh my God, hypocalcemia. His body's calcium was all but gone, it was like something had sucked all of the calcium out of him. I grabbed a vial of calcium gluconate off the cart, injected the substance straight into the IV, watched as seconds ticked off while the substance penetrated his system. Then, like magic, his tremors slowed and stopped, and his heart began to find its rhythm, the most rewarding sound there is to a doctor's ears.

"Normal sinus rhythm," someone said, and I sighed in relief.

"Okay, let's get him started on a continuous infusion of calcium, put in a Foley catheter, monitor his kidney function, and get back to work on bringing this fever under control." It looked like it was going to be another long, long night.

<><><><><>

We stood in the hallway outside the infirmary, looking through the doorway at Colonel O'Neill's pale, still form nearly hidden behind the bank of machines, monitors and what seemed like half my nursing staff. How many times had we done this, I wondered wearily, convened this little group in the face of a crisis, the Friends of Jack O'Neill (and yes, they deserved a capital F): Daniel, Teal'c, Sam and the General. Far too many times, I thought, far too many.

"So, Dr. Fraiser, what happened?" asked a worried looking General Hammond. "I thought the parasites were gone."

I shook my head. "They were, General. They are. But the creatures apparently depleted Colonel O'Neill's system of calcium, inadvertently I'd imagine, a side effect if you will of their rapid growth and expansion. That hypocalcemia, along with the other trauma weakening his system, caused an irregular heartbeat and seizures, and his heart stopped."

"The prognosis, doctor?"

"I don't know, General. There doesn't appear to be any physical damage to his heart. He's got a strong, regular heartbeat now. The EEG shows brain activity. If the seizures didn't cause brain damage, if the parasites themselves didn't cause some other damage we haven't even guessed at, if we didn't inflict some damage with the staff blasts, if his high temperatures didn't do any brain damage... Sir, there's just too many ifs. Even for Colonel O'Neill," I finished. "We really won't know what's going on until he wakes up." If he wakes up, I added silently.

"What about the rest of our personnel?" demanded Hammond.

"We're checking everyone now, Sir, testing for calcium levels in the blood. Of everyone here that we've seen so far, all were okay; a few were a little low but we've found nothing serious, and we've treated everyone. We're checking with the staff who've left, there are only a couple, and none of them were seriously infected so we aren't expecting any further problem there." Fraiser sighed wearily. "We did head off possible serious complications for Lt. Simmons. He was the only other patient whose calcium level was depleted enough to possibly be dangerous."

"Keep me informed, Doctor," said Hammond, sounding harried as he left to check on the computer, communications, ventilation and every other system which had been contaminated, and possibly damaged, by the infecting creatures.

Carter stepped into the Colonel's room, and stood at the foot of O'Neill's bed, a stunned look on her face as she lingered. "I thought when he revived in the gate room, he seemed all right, that he'd *be* all right."

I looked at my friend with concern. "Sam, when's the last time you slept?"

Carter eyed me wearily. "Honestly, I don't remember. Before all this started I guess. I mean, Daniel and I were up all night, and then the Colonel walked in and that thing started heating up and..."

"You need some sleep. Go to your quarters and rest. Those are doctors orders," I told her kindly.

"I can't. There's so much to do. The computer system's a mess and..."

"And it can wait. There's a fresh duty shift coming in, and the computer techs can handle things for a few hours. You're no good to anyone as exhausted as you are," I said, steering Sam toward the door. "You too, Daniel."

Pausing at the doorway, the captain took one final look at O'Neill's still form on the bed.

"Someone should stay with him," Daniel suggested, reluctant to leave.

"I will remain," said the Jaffa, bowing slightly to the two women. "I do not need rest for a few more hours, so I will stand watch over O'Neill."

"Thank you Teal'c," said Janet, as she watched the weary pair leave. Turning, she found the Jaffa had already seated himself on the chair next to O'Neill's bed.

"Is there a way I can be of further assistance, Dr. Fraiser?" he asked in his deep, unruffled voice.

"You might say a prayer, Mr. Teal'c," I said as I left.

This was a mighty strange planet, I thought. No trees, not a single, solitary one. Just grass, wave upon wave of tall grass, billowing in the wind. It was pleasant, lying here on this hillside, no sound but the sighing of the wind, watching an occasional fluffy cloud drifting overhead. I could, I thought lazily, stay here forever.

I felt it before I heard it, a growing tremor in the ground, then a low rumble. Sitting up to look over the tall grass, I saw something coming towards me, like a wave flowing across a far away hillside, approaching rapidly. They were horses, wild horses, a whole herd of wild horses, hundreds of them, thousands perhaps, running free, galloping, manes flying in the wind, their hooves thundering across the plain, and a cloud of dust billowing behind them. For a moment, I envied them their speed, their grace, and their freedom.

Oh shit, I thought, scrambling to my feet, suddenly aware that the animals were running right for me, straight at me, and there wasn't a thing to hide behind. 'Never thought I'd be missing trees,' I mused.

The horses stopped suddenly. Their leader was only about twenty yards away, a magnificent deep chocolate brown steed. He stood, head held high, and stared directly at me, as if challenging me. Behind him, the rest of the herd shuffled restlessly.

Slowly I walked toward him. The leader stamped a foot, shook his head, but stood his ground as I walked closer and closer. Six feet from the horse, I paused.

The stallion's coat was changing, reforming into a mixture of large brown and white spots. It reminded me of the spotted horses the Indians always rode in all those western movies I'd watched as a kid. But these spots weren't random, they were forming into patterns. I stared, trying to make out the shapes and forms hidden within the pattern of colors on the horse's gleaming hide. Faces. They were faces, faces I knew, faces I missed, faces who were missing me, calling out to me to come home. Daniel. Sam. Teal'c. My friends, my team. Where was my team? What was I doing here, all alone on this planet of wild horses? The spotted stallion snorted at me, sounding suddenly like, General Hammond? Where had that thought come from?

And then I knew I wasn't alone on any planet. I was dreaming, and it was time to wake up.

Last night I took up the vigil beside O'Neill's bed, much as I had sat by his side during the long hours the orb had held him pinned to the gateroom wall. My commander, my friend, has been quiet for hours. Nurses and doctors have been in to check on his condition, to work to lower his temperature, but he remains unconscious.

Finally, this morning, the medical staff has noted an improvement. When Dr. Fraiser came in, she seemed pleased with his progress and removed the breathing tube. His fever had broken, and his temperature was falling, she explained. "His blood work and other test results are all nearly back to normal, Teal'c. He could wake any time."

Slowly, it seems, he is winning his battle. But the final outcome is still unknown, when or if he will awaken.

More hours passed. Suddenly I heard O'Neill mutter something, saw him stir restlessly upon the bed. "Dr Fraiser," I called softly, "I believe Colonel O'Neill is awakening."

The petite doctor hurried in to the room, checked O'Neill's vitals as she eyed the monitors. "Colonel O'Neill, can you hear me? Colonel?"

This time, he responded.

I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the harsh glare of the infirmary lights, recognized Dr. Fraiser's face hovering above me, Teal'c standing behind her. "Morning, Doc." I mumbled.

She smiled. "Well actually, Colonel, it's the middle of the afternoon, but that's close enough. How are you feeling?"

I thought a moment, moved a little, groaned, realized I ached fiercely all over. "I feel like I've been run over by a herd of wild horses," I told her.

Was that a hint of a smile on Teal'c's face?

FINIS