Title: The Waiting Game

Author: Magicsunbeam

Email: magicsunbeam@ntlworld.com

Category: POV/angst

Pairing:

Rating: G

Season/sequel: 5

Summary: Missing scene from 48 hours.

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.

Authors notes: For Sandra. Cos she asks soooooooo nicely. J.

The Waiting Game

by Magicsubeam

Ah Gods. I *hate* it when I have no control over my own decisions. When I have no choice but to obey orders. When the last thing I want to do is play along with military regulations.

Teal'c is out there, somewhere and I *have* to know what happened to him. I want him back. The trouble is no one - not even Carter - knows where `somewhere` is. I wanted to hang around, see what was going on, what could be done and maybe even lend a hand.

Ha! As if Jack `Huh`? O'Neill, can be of any help to the likes of Carter.

I was determined to stay - undomesticated equines and all that. My brain however, had different plans. I didn't take into account how hard that damn shrapnel had bounced off my skull, till my knees suddenly turned to Jello and the ground rushed up to meet me. I felt hands, probably Daniels, grab me and prevent my ass from hitting the ground for the second time today. Big black dots danced in front of my eyes and I swear to God, I could hear the sea.

That's when old George got his `Now, Son` head on and insisted I go give Doc a visit. I have to admit at that point, I didn't know if I was on my ass or my elbow, so I gave in gracefully.

#####

Doc's prodded and poked, she put a couple of stitches in my head and gave me her `Rest Colonel` lecture. I think she's about done with me, but a guy can never be too sure. I want to go back to the control room, find out what's going on, but my head is now pounding like a bass drum and my eyelids feel like lead. That and the fact that Doc reading me the riot act, persuades me to wait here for a little while longer.

Despite the marching band, I can't get Teal'c out of my head. I *know* he was right behind me, I saw him start his run for the gate. He should be *here*. Home. With us. So where the hell is he? Now I know what he and Daniel must have been thinking when Carter and me took our little detour to the Antarctic.

I tell you one thing, if he hung back to try and take Tanith out, so help me God, I'm going to kill him myself!

Okay, so getting uptight was not the wisest idea I've had. The room is spinning and I've got a nauseous feeling coming from right down in my boots. Now, it doesn't do to aggravate the Doc by throwing up on her floor, so I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes, to rest in the dark for a while. I know Carter is doing all she can to work out what happened, I can leave it in her capable hands for now.

I feel Doc's fingers round my wrist, checking my pulse, and then her voice floats in from a distance.

"That's it Colonel. Get some rest."

#####

How many times?

How many times can this man and his team make it home and live to see another day?

Okay, so this time it's not so bad for the Colonel. Yes, he was practically dead on his feet when Daniel and Sam brought him in here, but his injuries are minor.

*This* time.

All he needed was a couple of stitches to that stubborn head of his. When I try to persuade him to lie down to rest for a while - surprise, shock, gasp, he does. No major argument, no wise cracks. I can't believe my luck. It could be that he's in a bit more pain than I thought, but I'm guessing he knows as well as anyone, there is nothing he can do but hope Sam and Daniels combined grey matter figures out a way to get our Jaffa friend home.

I know he's worried about Teal'c and the concussion isn't heavy enough to keep him down for long. Sooner, rather than later he's going to be back in the thick of it, trying to help, but no doubt getting in Sam's way. However, for now he's under no ones feet. Not even mine.

Checking his pulse, I watch as the worry lines across his face slowly smooth out, his breathing is slowing right down as he tips over the edge into sleep. I smile to myself just a little, as I encourage him to let go.

"That's it Colonel. Get some rest."

#####

One flaw Jack O'Neill has is how personally he takes the safety of his team. Granted, it's not a bad flaw, but when something like this goes wrong, he's on the command centre like a rash. Trying to find out what went wrong, what he can do to help rectify the situation, generally getting under everyone's feet. The staff put up him with because they know. They know his team is passion, his family, his everything.

Today is no exception.

After he had arrived home without Teal'c and gave me his best account of what had happened, I sent him down to the infirmary to have the cut to his head cleaned up. However, I had fully expected to see him back within 15 minutes. So I was somewhat surprised when he didn't show his face in the CC all the time I was there.

Eventually I went looking for him. I spoke to the doctor and she told me he had some minor cuts and bruises and a concussion and that he had slept for a couple of hours.

When he woke up, he had then headed off in search of Major Carter, who told me he looked a little more lost than usual, when she tried to explain to him what her theory was.

Sounds to me like our Colonel decided the best plan of action was to get the heck out of the way for a while, to leave the job to the experts. Most unlike the Colonel, I thought.

It was sometime later when I found him in the commissary, and I'll be frank, he looked like hell.

He was asleep. I could see that as soon as I walked in the door and saw him slouched at the table, head resting on his arms. My suspicions were confirmed when he failed to answer when I spoke his name. He physically jumped when I touched him and I couldn't help but wince when I saw the pain in his eyes. I reckoned the effects from concussion and worry at this point, was about 50/50.

`Go home`. I told him, trying to reassure him that everything possible was being done to get Teal'c home. He made a valiant effort of trying to avoid the suggestion, so left me with no choice but to make it official.

`Get some rest, Colonel. *That's* an order. `

I know he'll leave the mountain because I told him to, he may *even* get some sleep, but rest?

I very much doubt that.

Jack O'Neill will be to busy going over the events in his head. Trying to work out what happened back there on that planet. Asking himself what he could have done, that would have produced a different outcome. What signs he had missed, that would have made a single shred of difference.

I know this man. I know him well and right now he'll be twisting the facts around in his head until he can find a way to bring the blame back onto
himself.

Well let me tell you, that is *not* going to happen. Not so long as I'm in charge of this facility.

Whatever is happening to Teal'c is an *accident* - pure and simple. There was no human error made in this case, and I will have no one pointing any fingers. If any man, including Jack O'Neill, wants to challenge my decision, then may God have mercy on his soul.

Jack makes one damned fine commanding officer. He is strong, compassionate, caring leader. He's intense, takes his command seriously and whilst he would have you think he's not the cleverest man on base, he is a damn sight smarter than a lot of the people running *this* particular show.

However, like the rest of us, he is not perfect. He can also be loud, opinionated and dare I say, wrong? As that bounty hunter Aris Boc said, Jack O'Neill can be a pain in the Mik`ta. Sometimes.

I study him one last time, before turning away. I can't help but feel for him today. There is a lot of anguish riding shotgun to that concussion and they don't make a pretty pair. He looks too tired to move. Maybe I should suggest he takes up one of the VIP rooms instead of going home, he looks like he could sleep for a week.

Turning out into the corridor, I notice my day just got worse by seven shades of brown.

Damn. What the hell does Simmons want?

~~~end~~~