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Title: Andato Author: Crash Email: the.yllek@gmail.com Status: Complete! 4-10-05 Category: Missing Scene. Angst. Pairings: none Spoilers: HEROES PART 1&2 Season: 7 Sequel/Series Info: none right now Rating: All Content Warnings: Character DeathŠI don't think I even swore once so no language one. Tissue maybe File Size (kb): 34 Archive: Incoming Wormhole, Cartouche, AG Summary: I've seen a lot of fics out there dealing with Daniel and what happened in Heroes but I never really saw any with Jack and how he found out. Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Author's Note: An odd note for this one, lol, this is my most expensive fic I've ever written. I spent $23 on this one between the Dr. Pepper and the Yo-Yo Ma album I bought from iTunes (Bach: The Cello Suites). All well spent as I love the album. I only wish it wasn't 3am and I could play it with my speakers turned all the way up. Thanks to Aniko for the alpha and Neet for the beta. And to Dee, Ses, Teoh who told me to finish it.
He knew it wasn't water though. It was oxygen. He knew that because of the overpowering smell of floor wash and betadine making its way into his nose around the forced oxygen. They didn't force water up your nose at the hospital. Well, at least not like this. Idly he wondered what body part would be stained yellowish-brown-orange from the betadine. It itched like crazy and was hard to get off. Perhaps that was why his skin was tanned most of the time? The betadine simply had never come off. He opened his eyes. Well, sort of. It was like opening a paint can after it had been sitting for a while after use - the gummy strings of sticky half set paint pulling at the lid, fighting to keep it on. He won though, his eyes opened, tears leaking out as the cool air and light hit them. Blinking only made the tears worse, aggravating him more as they slid down his face into his ears. Glass shower door. That's what everything looked like. Smooth. Watery. Pebbled. Like a shower door after a steaming shower. Things flowed around him. Color blobs of indistinguishable objects. He hurt. All over. Nothing really specific. A big general ache. That was until he attempted to move. But experience told him not to do that, so he didn't and his two chief complaints were left to the prongs trying to bite through and pull the center wall his nose out, and the burning in his throat. He could hear things. Very well in fact. It was probably the one sense that was working at 100%. The cardiac monitor beeped. Curtains swooshed and rattled. Gurney wheels squeaked. That annoying squelching of rubber coming off of slick floors. It was all comforting. But something was missing. Something was wrong. Aside from him being in a hospital that was. It was hard to pinpoint, his thoughts still floating around like the last bits of cereal in milk. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, trying to block out everything and corral his floating thoughts. It made his head ache. Eyes opening again, he had to blink several times to get the gunky fluid out of the way. His vision was a little clearer now. The way his head was situated he could see the cardiac monitor and its green lines, rewriting themselves, like an etch-a-sketch. Up Down Up Down Over and over. Like a yo-yo. Yo-yo. The word stuck with him. It meant something. Maybe if he said it out loud it would ring the proverbial bell. He could feel his dried out lips cracking with the motions and wondered how come. His lips always dried out too easy but Doc or Sydnea always put Vaseline or Carmex on them. Something was not right. His mouth was tacky, and not in a good way. And his throat. Acidic gas was held up in the back of it, eating it. He spied the cup on the side table. It had ice in it. He'd done this enough times to know that. Ice chips. All he'd have to do is dump some in his mouth and it would fix everything. His mouth. His throat. Maybe he could reach it. Ixnay on that plan. His arms were too heavy, and like he predicted it hurt to move. He watched the green lines go up and down like a yo.... Yo-Yo Ma. He was missing. The music was missing. The music that they would put on when he was in recovery. Voices always sounded warped to him, easily misunderstood, but the sensuous sounds of Yo-Yo Ma's cello kept him grounded. Kept him from panicking and lashing out. Let him know everything was all right. Everything wasn't all right. Where was everyone? Doc? Sydnea? Warner? Helga? His team? He'd never been alone this long before. He could feel his heart speeding up. Thunking around in his chest as his anxiety grew. He tried to drag in a deep breath but it hurt. God it hurt. Lit his chest on fire. Cool air smacked the back of his throat, awakening the caustic gas that had been laying idle, gagging him. Over his coughing he could hear the cardiac monitor wailing and he wished it would stop. His eyes clamped shut but tears still managed to find their way out. Someone had finally come over to him. He could feel their hands on him and he could hear them talking. But they didn't make any sense and he couldn't stop coughing. He was a world of hurt by the time he stopped coughing. Chest burning, aching. His head was too much. His stomach was cramping and all he wanted to do was curl up in on himself. He tried to roll on to his side, but someone stopped him. A hand was on his face. Stretched across his nose and mouth. Pressing down. He didn't like it and tried to push it away. His coordination was off though and ended up smacking himself in the face instead. Someone took his hand then, holding it firmly, a thumb smoothing back and forth across his knuckles as they talked to him. Soothing tones. He just wished he knew who they were. Terry cloth. Slightly warm yet cool found its way to his face. Removing the gooey mess from his eyes and the salt tracks the tears left behind. It felt great. He opened his eyes to see oxygen mask lifted way from his face and slimey stuff was smeared on his lips and the mask replaced. He tracked the hands back to their owner, Helga. She smiled at him and kept talking. her mouth moving, lips forming words that weren't registering in his head quite yet. He took a long blink, his world clearer when he opened his eyes again, Helga's face taking back its correct shape. He stared at her. Following her lips as she talked and the sounds she made started to coalesce into words. Nice words. Comforting words. Maybe it wasn't fair for him to call her Helga. Just because she didn't let him get away with anything didn't make her a bad nurse. She was a good one. Her real name was Esther. She was crying. Barely. But she was. His brow furrowed. Why was she crying? And where was Doc. His little coughing stunt should have brought her over here, heel's clicking. Or Sydnea if Doc couldn't get away. Speaking of Sydnea he saw her come up to his bed. Esther was still talking to him, holding his line free hand to keep him from swatting at the oxygen mask. Must have switched it on him when he was coughing. He watched as Sydnea nodded to Esther and Esther put his hand back on the bed and stepped away. He noticed for the first time that he was shaking. From the chilly temp of the recovery room or the adrenaline from getting worked up. Sydnea was talking too. Her sounds making sense. Forming words in his head. "I know you're cold and don't like that, so I got you a fresh blanket." She continued to talk as she pulled his blankets away, quickly covering him with the warm one. She fiddled with his IV line and he felt the cold rush of medicine in his veins as it burned its way up his throat. "We had to put a mask on you when you were coughing. I promise we'll switch it back to a cannula as soon as possible. You gave us quite a scare with that." She leaned over, grasping his hand and placing her face right on top of his. He liked that about her. Despite the obvious gap in ranks she was never afraid to get up close and personal when needed. A mutual chucking of ranks at the foot of a bed sort of thing. He knew that Sydnea would tell him the truth. When he looked up at Sydnea's face he saw tears in her eyes too. He didn't think he was injured bad enough to cause the nurses to cry. Oh God.... His team. What if one of them... "Hey, hey hey. Jack calm down. You're going to be fine to. Just fine. Your team is fine, the other teams are fine. You guys got Airman Wells back and he will recover." She placed a hand on the side of his face. It was trembling. He blinked up at her. Puzzled. She was holding back. He looked away from her. Mulling it over. Who was missing? Running through who all went offworld, his thoughts slowed down by the drugs. SG1-Check SG3-Check SG5-Check SG7-Check SG13-Check Janet... "Doc?" He tried to croak out, raw throat, dry mouth, and oxygen mask hampering his efforts. When she didn't answer he tugged on her hand. "I'm sorry Jack." She looked away from him and he pulled at her hand again. He tried his voice again, his energy being siphoned off by the drugs in his system. "Sydnea?" Sydnea looked at him, her tears breaking freely from her eyes. "Janet's gone." 'Janet's gone.' He racked the words around his head, trying to understand their meaning. Janet. Gone? Gah! Why did they have to give him so many drugs. They made it really hard to string two letters together. He noticed the rails being raised on his bed and looked back to Sydnea. "Janet's gone?" He tried to get more information but his body was shutting down, overriding his brain. Sydnea was speaking again, her cheeks shiny from tears. "Stop fighting it and rest now. We're gonna get you settled in your room and we'll talk again when you wake up." Janet was gone. His eyes drifted shut, staying closed this time. Talk again? He hadn't talked at all, not really. He felt his bed moving, taking his body with it. His mind left behind, wafting in the curtain sided cubicle. Janet was dead. Andato.
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