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TITLE: Hard Lessons and Hobbits AUTHOR: DebiC EMAIL: dcole6@satx.rr.com DATE: 15 January, 2002 STATUS: Finished CATAGORY: Drama, Angst, Smarm, Hurt-Comfort SPOILERS: The First Ones (look or you'll miss it) SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: Fifth season, no sequel RATING: PG-13 ARCHIVED AT: HELIOPOLIS and at Crash's website "Incoming Wormhole" and can be seen at http://www.incomingwormhole.com/debic/index.html SUMMARY: Daniel goes off with another team who doesn't know the rules about Danny-borrowing. WARNINGS: Severe Daniel whumping. Also some gross medical stuff. 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 copywrite 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 NOTES: Thanks to Laura and Madeline for the Beta Read. AUTHOR'S NOTES 2: the album referenced is "Elton John Live in Australia performed with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra" (I took the words from the tape, if any are wrong, someone please Tell Me.) Also, the book quotes are from "The Fellowship of The Ring and "The Two Towers" by JRR Tolkein (as if you didn't know that.) The other book referred to is "Murder In The Place Of Anubis by Lynda S. Robinson. All these references are used without permission of the authors.
Prequel Jack O'Neill had really had a long, hard, bad day. Traffic was bad, coffee was cold, meetings were long. Hammond had been impatient, Fraiser overburdened with the care of SG4 who had returned injured and ill from 3P269, Carter involved in a frustrating project. Teal'c was on leave after a major injury and had returned to The Land Of Light several days ago for some time with his son. And Daniel had been gone TDY with SG-8 on some god-forsaken planet with nothing on it but sun, sand, prickly things and ruins. Hence the bad day. Jack was a team player now. He'd been spoiled. Once the epitome of the lone wolf syndrome, he had allowed himself to fall into believing that things would get better if you worked with dedicated professionals. But today had not proven this belief system out to his way of thinking. People sniped at each other, no one had cooperated and Carter had bitched at everyone in sight, so he had stayed out of it. Now, he was headed home to a Pizza and beer dinner and an early night. Jack unlocked the door to his empty house and dropped his uniform jacket on the couch in the den. He wandered into the kitchen, opened the frig and eyed it's unappealing contents with a jaded eye. Yep, it was definitely a pizza or Chinese night. Even the beer seemed unappealing to him. A six-pack of a cheaper American brand stood in the middle of the second shelf and below it was two bottles of something with foreign words on the bottle's labels. 'Wonder if Danny had ever tried Cervesa ... probably ... and if he didn't like it as much as he condemned the American types.' He mused. If he ever found some San Miguel, he'd buy it though just to prove that he would drink foreign brew. But with the story of his life at this point, he probably wouldn't like it either. After a few more idealized efforts at beer selection, Jack spied a bottle of white zinfandel wine hiding in the back corner, probably left over from one of the bar-b-ques earlier that fall. It had already been opened as proven by the different, plastic replacement cork in the neck. O'Neill pulled it out and released the pressure tab, sniffed the open top and finally poured the light pink liquid into a water glass. It would do, cause he really just didn't care. Putting the bottle back into the refrigerator and carrying the glass with him, he wandered back into the master bedroom with it's private bath. He slipped his boots off and pitched them at the closet door, followed quickly by the BDU shirt. Then in his stocking feet, mottled green trousers, and black t-shirt the tired man schlepped into the bathroom and started the water running into the tub. Shucking what was left of his outer garments; Jack meandered back over into the living room where his CD player sat on the entertainment center waiting for a decision, but he made none. He only hit the play button, not knowing what would come out over the Bose speakers. He picked up the glass of wine, went back into the bath area and stripped down to skin. Sliding into the tub of steaming water, he leaned back against the cold porcelain tub with a small sigh of comfort. The music started to play. Softly at first, then the volume started to climb. He realized that he didn't recognize the CD. It was an orchestral arrangement and obviously a live performance of someone as there was a swell of cheering and applause. He picked up the glass of wine and took another sip, allowing the heat, the vapors and the alcohol to relax the knotted muscles in his shoulders. Then he waited patiently for the performance to begin. It began as a string piece, with a solo harp, but the orchestra slowly segued in. Then, a singer started, a well-known voice whose identity escaped him. The song lyrics weren't familiar to him either. He couldn't quite put his finger on the man's identity, but he knew the feelings that were sung of. The words spoke of weariness, sadness and loss.
Who'll walk me down to church when I'm sixty years of age He was relaxing...finally...completely. Whoever this singer was, the man obviously was a master of the emotions. He'd figure out who it was....later. The next song was a love song, one of dedication and sweetness, of need and support.
You're not a ship to carry my life Finally relaxed by the hot bath and wine, Jack climbed out of the cooling bath and carried his empty wineglass out of the bedroom area. He wandered into the kitchen, opened a can of Cream of Something soup, slapped some ham and cheese on some whole wheat bread and poured another glass of the wine. The CD player segued into bittersweet.
What have I gotta do to make you love me? Then the singer started speaking to his audience about the lyrics and their writer. Elton John, a master of his craft, though this CD was obviously an older one. It must belong to Daniel. He'd have to thank him for bringing it over; it was just another facet in the gem of their friendship.
Jack O'Neill was rudely awakened by a ringing bell entirely too close to his head. As he grabbed for the alarm clock to turn it off he noted the time as 04:15, way too early for his morning call. After dropped the inoffensive timepiece and finally identifying the correct source as the telephone he pulled the receiving instrument onto his pillow. "Lo. O'Neill." "Colonel O'Neill?" "Speaking." "Colonel, this is Carter." "Carter." "Sir, SG 8 is back. Daniel's sick." "SickDaniel? What happened?" "I'm not sure sir. He's in the infirmary." "On my way." He hung up the instrument and rolled out of bed, reaching for his clothing in the same motion.
Daniel had been TDY with SG-8 to a fascinating planet that literally reeked with 'stuff' of terribly great importance to someone. He was sure that Daniel had been eager for the trip and the new archeological survey that was being started there. Jack himself had been tied up with reports and training requirements for the new team members that were coming in to replace personnel that were leaving or had been KIA. Long story short, when he'd gotten back to SG-1 business, he had been informed of Jackson's earlier unannounced and unapproved departure. Initially O'Neill had been confused why Daniel went on this detail. The ruins appeared Peruvian, not Egyptian, out of Jackson's field of expertise entirely. Jack had thought that Daniel had volunteered to get out of the mountain; but then Carter had told him that Daniel actually complained to her about going the day before. He was too busy he'd admitted. The young scientist had more than a full plate with his own work with ancient Goa'uld artifacts to analyze, categorize and translate. He hadn't really wanted to go she said, and in fact she had been waiting to talk to Ross about it when he approached her about 'borrowing' her teammate. But the request had not come to her and she had finally learned of the trip after the fact as O'Neill had. She had just figured Daniel had acquiesced as a favor to the 'new' kid on the block and finally cleared it with O'Neill. All of this was news to Jack. He hadn't been contacted. The man had obviously gone behind his (and Carter's) back, to highjack the premier archeologist of the SGC. After bringing this little bit of information to General Hammond, who believed that Jack had 'blessed' the mission beforehand. O'Neill had been generally pissed at the temerity of the new SG-8 Commander, Major Ross. The Archeologist must have agreed to go on his own. Jack sighed and shook his head. No good deed of Daniel's ever went unpunished.
O'Neill dismounted from the elevator and quickly strode into the SGC infirmary. There he was surprised to see Teal'c behind the half glass walls of the ICU ward, sitting guard duty to the unconscious member of their team. Major General Hammond and Major Carter were engaged in a discussion with Doctor Fraiser and Major Ross. When Carter saw the Colonel arrive, she started to step back to allow him toe rights to the circle but he waived at her to maintain position a bit longer. Before he claimed that position, Jack strode into the Intensive Care Unit over to Daniel's bedside and took a quick topological survey of the site. It was obviously bad. Teal'c sat glowering in the uncomfortable looking chair next to his teammate's bed. Daniel's color was a half a shade off from the hospital-white sheets, his skin translucent and appearing dark and bruised under the eyes and around the mouth. He had obviously suffered a nosebleed at sometime and his nostrils and lips were stained deep rouge in their tiny lines from blood. The oxygen mask that covered his nose and mouth shrouded his helpless expression and two separate IVs viciously pierced the tender inner flesh of his forearms. Jack gently reached out and touched the alabaster flesh of his friend's cheek, it's normal healthy pink had faded. The skin was like an antique silken cloth, impossibly fragile and too warm by far. He met the Jaffa warrior's eyes over the tubes and coils of life support equipment and agreed wholeheartedly with the stone-cold fury that was reflected therein. After their reaching the unspoken agreement that Teal'c would remain there come hell or high water, O'Neill turned on his heel and returned to the group. Carter was furious, no doubt about that. She was in full lioness mode and leaning into the other Major's face. Fraiser was shifting from foot to foot as if so angry/distraught/worried that she couldn't contain all the available emotions within her 5 ft 2 frame. Hammond was obviously very unhappy with what Ross was saying to him, murmuring and shaking his head. Ross was gesticulating with his hands; looking from person to person and then glancing nervously over his shoulder as O'Neill strode towards him. Jack was quick and to the point. "What the hell happened?" "Nothing! Nothing happened. That's what I'm trying to tell you." Ross was looking at him as if he were afraid that O'Neill would physically attack him. "He was fine that evening. We had set up camp in the village area of the ruins. Dr. Jackson was inside a structure and we had started to relax a bit. I went inside to check on him and he said he was fine." "And?" "Later, I realized that he hadn't come for the evening meal. So I went back in and spoke to him again. He said he was fine and he'd almost finished. So I left him alone. Later, I went to bed and then in the morning, Captain King came and told me that Jackson had never shown back up to camp." The Major continued on quickly. "The sentry, McMaster's went back to the structure and found him on the path like this. I don't know what happened. He was fine before." Carter broke in angrily over O'Neill's shoulder. "You left him in an alien structure without checking on him for an entire night? You didn't even know he'd not been to dinner! What the hell kind of commander are you, anyway?" Hammond spoke to her sharply. "Major that will be enough!" O'Neill looked from Carter to Hammond to Ross. "Yes, sir. That is enough. Now, I want to hear the answer to her question." He turned on the Major. "What kind of Commander would do that?" Then continued on his own. "What kind of Commander loses track of valuable personnel seconded under his command? What kind of Commander doesn't know when a person isn't in camp after his perimeter is supposedly secured? And what kind of a Commander goes to bed without checking on the welfare of all of his team?" "Dr. Jackson is a grown man." Ross protested. "He is one of the most experienced field personnel assigned here. I am not his mother!" "Excuse me, Major Ross, but you are very wrong." O'Neill mentally restrained himself from taking a step towards the younger officer and pounding each salient point home. "That's exactly who you are, as a field commander. Everyone under your command and control is your responsibility. Whether he's an experienced field operative, a raw recruit or a highly qualified civilian. Dr. Jackson is NOT in the military, he had NOT been through formal survival training and he is NOT combat personnel. He IS a highly skilled, well regarded, civilian specialist who will go to the wall for you and your team. He is an individual with certain medical conditions and idiosyncrasies that is not normally left to his own devises in combat field conditions. He is not a soldier and has never been expected to act like one." "Colonel O'Neill, while I appreciate your feelings in this situation, I'm not sure that Ross has acted unacceptably as yet." General Hammond said calmly, giving O'Neill the eye. "Sir, I beg to differ." Carter interjected heatedly into the discussion. "Major Ross 'borrowed' Daniel for this mission without proper authority or clearance from either Colonel O'Neill or myself. Daniel had come to me the day before they left to tell me that Ross wanted him to go, but that he was busy with the miniature stele that SG 11 had brought back from 3P290 and that he wouldn't have time to do both projects. I told him that I would not approve the trip because the Colonel would be back by today and that we needed to start getting ready for our own next mission. The next thing I hear is that they had left that morning with Daniel. Why was my approval not sought so that my instructions were not followed, sir?" She turned to Ross. "Why did you insist that Dr. Jackson be assigned on your team?" "Dr. Jackson is the most qualified Archeologist in residence at the SGC. I felt that his assistance was required to produce speedy and complete results of the area to be studied." Jack tried to keep his voice expressionless. "Dr. Jackson is highly qualified in his field of expertise. But I remind you that his field is Egyptology with a fair amount of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern background. Mesoamerican and South American studies are way off his game. There are at least two better-qualified anthropologists in residence here. You did not NEED Daniel Jackson, but for some reason you wanted him. Why? And why on this particular planet?" Ross looked around at Hammond and Fraiser for support. "I just wanted the best...that's all." He replied in a defiant voice. "I wanted to go, get what we needed and get back with the information. I thought that Jackson would be better in case we found something that was Goa'uld in nature. That he had the experience to do the job." Dr. Fraiser was not impressed. "Did Daniel say anything to you about not feeling well?" "Well, he joked about Gate allergies." Ross looked thoughtful. "He started sneezing as soon as we got there. Then he seemed to catch a cold." "So he complained about feeling sick." O'Neill stated unhappily. "No, he joked about his allergies." Carter and O'Neill exchanged looks. "What?" The Lt Col demanded. Carter explained to the obviously dense officer. "Daniel Jackson does not 'complain' about anything. He's the epitome of professionalism. He always does his job. He doesn't always take care of himself, but he doesn't joke about it either. He also knows to inform his 'commander' when he's not feeling well." "Maybe he was sick when he left here already." Sam shook her head. "He was fine. I talked to him the day before you left, remember?" She looked at Fraiser. "How was his physical?" Janet looked at her friend and shook her head. "He didn't have a physical. He wasn't on the orders I received from Sgt Davis." Hammond looked surprised at Fraiser, then turned to Ross. "Why wasn't he covered under your team's orders, Major Ross? And if he wasn't covered, why did he go?" "The orders were amended, Sir. I had him added the following morning to complete the team compliment." Jack stared at the man in utter amazement. "Wait a minute. You went to a civilian specialist and insisted that he come with you on a mission. You did not contact Major Carter or myself for approval. You had him added yourself the next morning after the mission brief and out-processing occurred. Daniel, who has known allergies, didn't receive proper medical attention or preparation before departing off world with you on amended orders which at time of mission planning he was not listed as a go. Ross looked from O'Neill to Hammond to Fraiser. "I didn't know he had medical problems. No one said anything...." Fraiser looked at him with fire in her eyes. "You didn't know because we didn't know he was going. Dr. Jackson has allergies to over twenty-three stimuli. He always received booster vaccinations before he leaves the SGC." She looked over at Colonel O'Neill. "He probably had an allergy attack and then went into asthmatic shock." O'Neill ducked his head and ran both his hands through his grizzled sandy colored hair and exclaimed, "Gaahh!" He then allowed his right hand to shoot forward and clamp down on them Major's shirt collar. "Do you even have a clue in hell, what your actions have precipitated!" He spoke slowly and succinctly. "You have put at risk the man who opened the Stargate. You idiot!" "Why didn't he say anything?" Ross wheezed, having some difficulty breathing around the fist on his lapel. Carter bent in to him and spoke firmly and softly. "Daniel said he didn't want to go, he had too much work to do. You said he said that he 'joked' about his allergies. Then you said you heard and saw him start sneezing. Then you said he 'caught a cold'. It seems to me, Major, that he did say something...several times and you ignored him." Jack O'Neill allowed his hand to tighten down harder on his fellow officer and twisted the man's collar uncomfortably tight. "Daniel is on my team. When I'm busy, Carter is my second in command here and in the field. When he says 'I am sick, I am hurt, I am tired, I am something, we listen because when he says sick he is usually very ill, hurt is frequently seriously wounded, tired typically means exhausted and something more often than not means there's a problem and he's not fine...in spades...and we bring him home! Because he has saved our asses and our planet more times than you've even thought about. Now, Major Ross I am notifying you that formal charges of assault by neglect will be drawn up against you. So you'd better go right now and call your Air Force Lawyer to save your Air Force Ass... from me!" The Colonel let go of Ross's collar. The man nearly fell back onto the floor at the shock of release. O'Neill looked coldly at the hapless man, then turned and strode back towards the ICU room. He pulled a chair in as he entered the doorway, planted it next to Daniel's bedside and sat down in it. Then he dropped his head into his hands. Teal'c eyed him briefly then decided to resume his own thoughts. Ross looked back and forth between Hammond, Carter and Fraiser. "He can't do that can he?" Hammond just looked at him. "You'd better be glad that's all he wants to do to you, Major. I'll talk to him before there's any action taken. Dismissed." Fraiser waited until the young team chief left the infirmary to continue talking to her C.O. "Unfortunately, General Hammond, this whole thing is not going to get any better quickly." Janet glanced down at the clipboard she still held in her hands. "Sir, I need to talk to you and the Colonel...alone in my office." She glanced at Major Carter. "Sorry, Sam." Carter reached over and squeezed her friend's elbow, nodding. "It's okay. I'll go tell him to meet you two over in your office." Fraiser escorted the General into her private cubicle. They didn't say anything until O'Neill finally came in and sat down, his face expressionless in the harsh flourescent lights. Fraiser sat down behind her Government Issue gray desk and looked up at the two men in front of her. "Sirs," Doctor Fraiser looked down at her notes. "You are both listed on Daniel's paperwork as 'next of kin'. That gives me authorization to speak plainly to both of you." Hammond looked up and nodded waiting. Jack continued to stare at the floor but moved his head in assent. "When SG-8 brought Daniel in this morning, he was unconscious. I, frankly, didn't even realize that he had gone off world. When I found out what had happened, well, I'm very worried." At this, O'Neill raised his head and looked at her. "What happened, Doc?" The Colonel asked calmly. "What's wrong with him?" She ducked her head for a second, exhaling her anger. "MSgt McMasters found him on last watch. She said that when she checked his tent, she realized that Daniel wasn't there, she went to look for him. She found him unconscious, on the trail to the ruins, apparently headed towards the camp. She immediately fired a shot to attract attention, then started CPR. She reported that he was still 'warm and alive' but that he was having difficulty breathing on his own and his pulse was very weak. By the time, they got him back here, he did have a weak pulse but difficulty breathing. He had suffered bleeding from his nose and mouth and his lungs were severely constricted from an apparent asthmatic episode. As soon as he arrived in ER, we started treatments with abuterol, epinephrine and prednazone to open his airways and clear his lungs. His body is responding to treatment and is now starting to do it's own work." Hammond reacted first, if cautiously. "Then this is good news, isn't it?" The Doctor nodded. "Yes, Sir. We have the symptoms under control at last. We are still assisting his breathing and his heart rhythm is good." "But," Jack put in. "There's always a but, isn't there Doc?" "In this case, yes. I'm afraid there is." She put down her pen and looked squarely at him. "The 'but' is, Colonel, but how long did he go with limited respiration and a slow, weak heartbeat? There is a very small window that the human system can do without oxygen. After that window, come problems." She paused and took a steadying breath. "The possibility of brain damage." "Brain damage?" Hammond repeated starkly. "What kind of brain damage are we talking about here Doctor?" O'Neill never moved but quietly started reciting a litany. "Brain damage as in...loss of mobility, mental impairment, seizures and whatever else is controlled by the damaged portion of the brain." Fraiser looked at him with concern and nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Those possibilities do exist. But," She hurried on. "He's still unconscious. That's not good. And of course, we won't know anything until he wakes up. It just all depends on how long he lay there before the Sergeant found him. If McMasters got to him quick enough or if he was left in difficulty too long." She pursed her lips. "I just don't know and I won't do you or him the injustice of guessing." Hammond nodded, accepting her report. Then he looked at his second in command. O'Neill sat expressionless in the plastic chair, his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands staring at the wall behind Janet Fraiser's desk. "Well, Doctor," the General started to rise. "I know of no one I trust better with Dr. Jackson's welfare." He turned to leave and Janet came around the desk to escort him out and to leave Jack alone for a minute while he processed the information. "Please keep me informed...about everything." They both glanced at the Colonel as she closed the door behind them. After a few minutes, Janet returned to the office and quietly took her seat behind her desk. O'Neill finally raised his head and looked directly at her. "Do you know anything else?" She shook her head no in quick, short jerks. " We can only wait till he wakes up. Then we'll know more." Frasier looked thoughtfully at the Colonel. "How do you know so much about brain damage?" He continued to look past her at the gray painted walls. "When Charlie...when it happened, Sarah and I sat in the emergency room for a coupla hours. The Doc came in and explained... about... brain damage. But that was... different." She didn't know anything about Charlie O'Neill's death other than it was a self-inflicted gunshot wound. It would have had to have been different though. "Colonel, violent trauma is...not the same as this. The damage is...usually more severe. This is more like starvation of the brain cells than wounding. Daniel does have a chance, a good chance. Now, I won't lie to you. It will depend on the time factor involved. His body didn't give up easily; he was fighting as hard as he could. We just won't know anything yet, not until..." Jack nodded. "Not until he wakes up. I know. Thanks Doc." She could only nod in return. "No promises but not hopeless either, Colonel." "No hits, no runs, no errors...but one man out." He stood up and turned to go, pausing for a second at the door to look back at her. Then he was gone...back to the ICU cubicle to sit and wait.
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