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 Title: Waiting for Jack Author: Su Freund Email: su_freund@ficwithfins.com Category: Angst/Romance/Drama/Whumping Content Level: Age 13+ Content Warnings: Themes of domestic and other violence. Language. Pairings: Jack/Other (Catherine), Sam/Pete Season: 8 Spoilers: None Summary: "Waiting is a trap. There will always be reasons to wait... The truth is, there are only two things in life, reasons and results, and reasons simply don't count." Quote from Robert Anthony Sequel/Series Info: Sequel to Part 10 of Jack/Catherine series: Jack's Retribution Status: Continuing series 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. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright 2008 Su Freund Author's Note: Firstly, apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. Cliff-hangers can be a bitch! But, RL must come first, and mine has been difficult lately. Thanks to all of you who are reading this for your terrific feedback. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Secondly, Lynette (Flatkatsi) who beta read this fic deserves endless gratitude for her hard work and patience. As always, without her input this would be a far poorer story. Waiting for Jack Daniel paced, muttering under his breath. It was irritating Carter, who was just as concerned about O'Neill as he was but trying to stay composed. She wished he would join her and Teal'c and settle down. But he was still the same old Daniel. A civilian. Air Force training sure came in handy in a crisis. To stop from freaking out, Carter was using every trick she had ever learned. Not easy but necessary, particularly in a situation where you feel totally powerless. The threesome all loved Jack in their individual ways and the notion of losing him was gut-wrenching. Almost unthinkable and certainly unacceptable. "I wish we knew how he is," Daniel said. He had mumbled something similar many times since they had entered the room. "When Jesse knows, we'll know," Carter replied in a tetchy tone that Daniel appeared not to notice. "I wish we were in the infirmary," he muttered. Pace, pace... "Daniel, for crying out loud, sit down!" Carter snarled, knowing what he meant by the comment. She agreed. Back in the SGC they might be just as helpless as they were now, but they would feel closer to O'Neill, closer to what was going on and what the medical staff were doing. They would feel more in control, more knowledgeable... have more faith that he would be okay. Sure, Daniel was right to wish for it, but that did not stop his incessant pacing from driving her nuts! Teal'c placed a restraining and sympathetic arm on her shoulder, squeezing gently, and everyone in the room looked at her, including Daniel this time. Sam reddened, embarrassed at loosing her cool, and Daniel eyed her for a few moments, taken aback by her tone. He stopped pacing and threw himself with a loud thump into the vacant chair next to her. "Sam, are you all right?" he asked. Although he aimed the question at her, he was glancing at Teal'c in a puzzled manner, oblivious that his unease - and more specifically the pacing - was unsettling her. "Of course I'm not all right. Don't be such an ass!" she exclaimed, although she kept her voice as low as possible, trying to look calmer than she felt. Carter was discomforted by becoming the centre of attention of the waiting room's occupants, albeit briefly. They did not know most of these people, except from the cursory introductions made when they first came in earlier on. Back at the SGC, they would not be sitting there waiting with a room full of strangers who probably did not even know O'Neill very well personally, if at all, but were merely hanging around because they had a job to do. The place and the people were disconcerting enough without the interminable waiting, which threw them all off balance. Leastwise, it seemed interminable to Jack's friends. No news is good news, right? If only that were true, but the team knew better. Sometimes it was not good news. Sometimes it was bad news. Bad news they could live without. They did not want or need it. They wanted and needed to know O'Neill was all right, that he would live, that his injuries would heal, that he would be whole again. So the interminable waiting was getting them all down - and then there was Daniel's impatient and fretful pacing! It was a small relief that he had sat down at last. He had been pacing ever since he had finished his coffee and that had been ages ago, it seemed. The other people in the room must have found it irritating too, Carter thought, but they seemed to ignore it after a while. For her, it was something that disturbed the calm she was trying to pretend she felt. She was trying her best, using all those tricks she had learned, but Daniel's much more obvious and emotional reaction made her efforts that much harder. Teal'c, of course, was a rock. A steadying influence on their tattered nerves. His stoic placidity was something they could all wish to emulate, a lesson they could learn. Carter was certain he was just as worried as the rest of them. However, he hid it well behind that sphinx-like facade. If only... "Ass?" Daniel responded in a slightly hurt tone. "What, you're channeling Jack now?" Sam could not help but smile faintly at his comment. She did sound a little like the general, although if he was sitting here waiting she was certain he would be doing the composed Teal'c thing and not be the mess she felt she was. He could be pretty good at unfathomable too. Sometimes that was just as infuriating as Daniel's overtly emotional responses. Daniel wore his heart on his sleeve and Sam normally loved that about him, but not right now. She did not need his expressive feelings rubbing off on her when she was aiming for unreadable. Carter figured she would never achieve that O'Neill/Teal'c inscrutability thing. Maybe she should not even try, although she thought it could be a useful tool to keep in her box of tricks. Carter had learned a lot from the general and was still learning. Learning never stopped, she guessed, and probably it never should. Maybe she should come right out and ask O'Neill how he did it. That was when, and if, she got the chance. Sure, she would get the chance. You betchya she would. Everyone else in the waiting room had stopped staring now, returning to their silence or the small cliques engaged in whispered conversation. This helped Carter feel slightly less edgy. That and the fact Daniel was now sitting down. She took a deep calming breath. "I'm sorry, Daniel, b-but..." She did not know how to put it so trailed off. "I believe Colonel Carter is attempting to remain composed in the face of her anxiety, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said, attempting to come to her rescue. Carter smiled at him gratefully. "So me pacing up and down isn't helping, huh?" Daniel asked. Visibly emotional he might sometimes be, but stupid he was not. "Indeed." Daniel nodded understandingly and draped his arm around Sam's shoulder, kissing her cheek in a comradely manner. "He'll pull through okay," he said in a positive tone. "I'm confident," she replied with a twinge of a smile. "Me too," Daniel agreed with a grin. "As am I," Teal'c added, and the three snickered softly at what was a private team joke. "I guess I'm feeling jumpy," Daniel explained. "I know, Daniel. We all are," Carter responded. "I just... I need us to stay calm, okay?" So, Daniel determined to appear less agitated for Sam's sake, but he needed to keep occupied. "Coffee? Coke?" he asked. At least he could make himself useful. Sam nodded as he mentioned coffee, but Teal'c paused for a moment before responding. "I believe I will partake in some coffee for refreshment, Daniel Jackson," he replied, and Daniel acknowledged his wish, promptly leaving the room to fetch their drinks. When he returned with three coffees, he sat in the same chair again and passed them out. The two men flanked Carter and directed their apprehension about O'Neill at her, another target for concern helping distract them from the more obvious one. "I think we ought to phone Catherine," Daniel said, the notion suddenly occurring to him. "She's probably expecting to see Jack and worried sick he hasn't shown up." "She's not going to worry any less if we tell her." Daniel noted Sam's slightly acerbic tone and threw her an arched look. "What? Then you think we shouldn't tell her?" Daniel retorted, his manner close to being as caustic as hers. Sam glanced at him regretfully. "Sorry, Daniel. That's not what I meant. Of course, we need to let her know. It's just..." She shrugged helplessly, tears welling up in her eyes, which she quickly attempted to repress. They were all on edge, their tempers frayed. Sighing heavily, she repeated her apology. "I'm sorry." He said nothing for a moment and then rose from his chair. "I'll ask Jesse if he has her phone number," he replied, realizing her tetchiness was only borne from their mutual edginess. They all desperately needed to hear some good news. The waiting was killing them. "I bet Jesse already thought of it," she said, because she did not think that kind of detail was something O'Neill's XO was likely to forget. He was good with detail, a great organizer. This was one reason he was the right person for the XO job, and for fulfilling his current role at the hospital. "Then I'm surprised she isn't here," Daniel replied, turning to exit the room. "Jesse's had a lot to deal with. Even he isn't perfect," he added with his back to the team, so he did not see Sam nod in agreement. He returned a couple of minutes later to confirm Jesse had already called Catherine, and the three team mates fell silent until Sam spoke again. "You think Jack is serious about her?" she asked in a low voice. Her expression was pensive and the use of her CO's first name was a dead give away about her emotional state. Daniel and Teal'c exchanged knowing and concerned looks. Meanwhile, Sam was not sure she wanted to know the answer to her question. She was not even sure why she had voiced it. The notion of Catherine made her feel edgy. She knew that was ridiculous, probably hypocritical given she was engaged to Pete. But this was the first time O'Neill had had a girlfriend since they had known him, or as far as she was aware. It seemed strange, discombobulating. Frankly, she was envious. All those suppressed feelings for her CO kept surfacing uncomfortably when she thought about the woman, so she tried to avoid thinking about her as much as possible, while pretending - pretending their relationship did not matter to her, pretending she had no feelings for O'Neill other than friendship and the fact he was her boss. She was fighting a losing battle with herself, but no way would she admit it. "Yeah. Kind of." Daniel saw a fleeting look pass over Sam's face that he could have sworn was a combination of hurt feelings and jealousy. 'Whoa!' He thought. 'You're the one engaged to someone else." He was tempted to say so, to tell her she had no right to feel that way, but decided discretion was more appropriate. He must have shown some of those thoughts on his face, however, as Carter reacted as if he had spoken aloud. "Don't Daniel!" "What?" he said in an injured tone. For once, he had decided to keep his mouth firmly shut and he still got it in the neck. It seemed unfair. Sam must be reading his mind. Probably she was thinking the same thing, that she had no right. Sam was wrong about that and so was he. She did have a right - of sorts. Jack and Sam's relationship had always been... different. There had been an air of expectation around the pair of them for years. They were professionals and did their jobs, obeyed the regs, kept their distance and all of that, but none of this meant they did not have inappropriate feelings for each other. Daniel was fairly certain they did have those kinds of mutual feelings, despite Catherine Fellowes and Pete Shanahan. That made this situation even more difficult to bear for Sam, he realized. Fleetingly he wondered what might have happened if Jack's barbeque had gone ahead instead of him getting himself attacked by unknown assailants. Sam probably would have been on her best behavior and she would never have shown any of those feelings for Jack openly. How could she have? She might even have gone as far as to try befriending Catherine. In Daniel's view, there was something sad about that. It was a great pity his two friends had to turn to other people because they were not allowed to turn to each other. The whole Jack, Sam, Pete and Catherine situation was a minefield probably left well alone because it could blow up in their faces at any moment. So Daniel decided to refrain from further comment about Catherine for the moment. Given that Jesse had called, she would probably arrive soon anyway. It would be kind of weird meeting Jack's girlfriend for the first time in these circumstances. Weird for all of them, including Catherine, who would certainly be as upset by Jack's situation as the rest of them. Carter sighed, saying nothing in response to her friend's wounded tone, and Daniel placed an arm around her and hugged her again, thinking his private thoughts. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze, whispering 'sorry' in his ear. He smiled at her engagingly and nodded acknowledgement. And then they sat like that for what seemed to be the longest time. Waiting. Interminably waiting for word of their injured friend. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 He could not see the bottom. A sheer drop into never-ending depths. His precarious balance on the precipice left him exposed and icy wind whipped around him, chilling him through to the bone. He shivered, shielding his eyes from the glaring white light with his fingers. Despite its overwhelming intensity, the light was alluring, tempting him to step forward into the nothingness below. The light spoke, urging him on, telling him to have faith, trying to captivate him. He had lost faith many years ago. Still had hope, but not much faith. Nevertheless, he ached to throw himself off the precipice toward the light. That way lay certain death. Without his volition, his foot moved closer to the edge. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing it to stop. Not ready to take that step. Still too much left to do. He did not want to fall into that bright and eternal place. Turning his head, he realized what lay behind him was bleak and oppressive. Dense fog, lack of clarity. He could not see more than a few inches in front of his face. That way lay the unknown, uncertainty. The blank spaces on the map which told him that here there be dragons. It was a conundrum. For a few seconds, he was not sure where to go, only that he needed to get off the precipice. It was important. He was not sure why, but it was. And he needed to do it quickly. Right now. Choices. Decisions. One thing he was good at. Making them, standing by them, living with them. He took a tentative step... 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 "We've got a pulse!" "BP up... nearly normal." "Phew, that was close." As the hubbub behind the closed doors died down, and the normal rhythmic bleeping sounds of the monitors started up again, the two SFs guarding the door turned to each other and smiled. Panic over, it seemed. Relieved, the pair returned to their impenetrable norm, eyes forward, standing ramrod straight. The old man was okay - at least for now. Both of them were silently hoping it would stay that way. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 From his composed demeanor, Carter could not possibly have guessed what Teal'c was thinking. Inside, O'Neill's plight filled him with fury. He wanted to find the people who had injured his friend and tear them apart piece by piece, making them suffer a slow and torturous death. It was a Jaffa revenge thing, as O'Neill might have said. Someone had harmed a man he respected and liked. A friend. No Jaffa would easily take such an event in their stride. Not unless the perpetrator was a Goa'uld. Then they had little choice but to suffer the anger of their god or his minions in silence, in times gone by anyway. But for a friend to suffer such harm was different. It was almost instinctive for a Jaffa to seek to avenge such a wrong. Teal'c was as disturbed as the rest of his team by O'Neill's welfare. He wished him well, wanted him to live. If he had a god to pray to, the Jaffa might have secretly sunk to his knees to beg for such an outcome, but he worshiped nothing now. What he had left was a warrior's code and his own unique interpretation of it, adapted by his years spent working and playing with the Tauri. Just as he had educated and influenced his friends on Earth, so too had they wrought some changes on him. Teal'c was a different man to the person SG-1 had encountered on Chulak all those years before. More human, perhaps. Yet, he was still the same man; he simply had a different mission. One that was very personal to him - freedom from slavery and oppression for his fellow Jaffa, and for those who endured tyranny. Particularly, but not exclusively, from the Goa'uld. False gods. No one should have to suffer them. Teal'c loathed those who would set themselves above others in such a way. And he had another personal mission. One he rarely referred to. For many years, he had slaughtered innocents on behalf of those false gods he despised. Teal'c knew he could not hope to achieve redemption for his sins. He had committed too many acts of evil in someone else's name. So, any hope of redemption would take more lifetimes than he could live, and would probably not be possible even then. However, he would do what he could do. He had to try, and he would continue to do so for the rest of his life, with his last breath if necessary. By striving to save others from the yoke of repression, Teal'c would die knowing he had tried. And he would die free. That had to be enough because he could do no more. O'Neill held a special place in his heart. He had given Teal'c the chance to make the attempt. He had given him freedom, and fought to do likewise for others. He had seen worth in Teal'c - a heart and soul that the Jaffa thought might be lost, despite any efforts he made to do some good amongst the terrible evil. This was a gift beyond price and he was in O'Neill's debt. They were brothers and Teal'c felt his brother's pain and torment deep in his breast and gut. So now, he had another mission, far more personal than his other broader aims. Justice for the injuries imposed on his brother. And for Jaffa, justice meant a very different thing than it did to his human friends. No judges and juries, but bloody and furious revenge. Summary justice. The passion of a Jaffa on a mission of personal vengeance was terrifying to behold. Virtually uncontrollable. As Apophis might have controlled him in the past, only Jack O'Neill himself was likely to be able to manage him now. Not even Colonel Carter was likely to intervene successfully. As angry and upset as she might be about O'Neill, he knew Carter would try. So, Teal'c kept his own counsel about his plans. He did not yet know enough about the people who had committed this crime against his brother. Not enough to go out into this Tauri world and fulfill his wish for retribution. He would bide his time. Wait for news of O'Neill. Wait for more intelligence. Even a wrathful Teal'c could be an extremely patient man. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 Catherine had never once imagined the first time she would meet Jack's friends was in such terrible circumstances - in a hospital waiting room hoping and praying for good news about Jack. Not the auspicious occasion she might have wished for. Waiting for the cab to take her there, time passed frustratingly slowly. Once in the back seat and on her way, it did not start moving forward any quicker. It seemed to take an age to reach the hospital. She passed the never-ending time by allowing her imagination to run riot. Not deliberately, you understand. Catherine simply could not help herself. Jack O'Neill thought he was a master at conjuring the worst case scenario but Catherine could have given him a run for his money. She pictured the numerous flowers and wreaths at his funeral, smelled the acrid stench of the gunpowder as the honor guard saluted his passing, heard the mournful refrain of Taps and envisaged the meticulous folding of the American flag. Pessimism took root and grew with alarming rapidity. By the time she reached the hospital, Catherine was more frantic than ever. After paying the driver she stood outside for a while dreading what she might learn if she took those final footsteps through the entrance. Bracing herself, she took a few long deep breaths in an effort to slow her disturbingly fast heart rate, taking a faltering step forward. She was as ready as she was ever going to be. Jesse Ellis saw her as soon as she came in. He recognized her from the photographs Walter Harriman had obtained for their CO from the newspaper offices a few weeks before, after the pair had appeared together in the social columns. She wore dark glasses and did not remove them as she walked through the door. This puzzled him but he discarded the fleeting thought. Her posture told him she was flustered, shocked, and totally lost. For a moment, she stood there peering around, and then started toward the reception. She looked uncomfortable as she walked, he noticed, off kilter as if it hurt to put one foot in front of the other. Ellis hastened to intercept her. "Miss Fellowes?" he queried and she jumped slightly with surprise before turning to face the dark baritone voice. "Yes." "I'm Colonel Ellis, General O'Neill's Executive Officer. We spoke on the phone." "Yes, of course," she responded slightly absently. "How is he? Is he all right?" "Nothing new, I'm afraid. Nothing I didn't tell you on the phone." The woman appeared slightly perplexed by those words. "I-I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't quite remember everything you said. I suppose I lost it." She looked unhappy with herself at the thought. If Ellis had known her, he would have realized she was the kind of woman who would normally give you her full attention, a trait that drew you in and charmed the heck out of you. But when he called, Catherine had picked up only enough of his words to get the gist. She had been too shocked to take it all in. Still was. Sympathetically, Ellis explained it all again - as much as he knew, or as much as he could tell her. The upshot was the same either way. No news, good or bad. She seemed flummoxed and upset by what he said. As she stood in silence, apparently thinking about it, maybe trying to formulate questions, he studied her subtly. It did not take him long to surmise the reason for the sunglasses. Disguise, shame. Someone had blackened her eye. The bruising extended over her cheek. The colonel tried to avoid staring as he did not wish to make her feel even more self-conscious. Certainly, he was too polite to ask but Jesse wondered what her story was. He figured this bruising, along with the awkward bearing that might indicate further injury, could not be merely coincidental. If O'Neill's situation and her injuries were linked, Jesse probably needed to know about it. Well, not so much him, but those people who were investigating the attack. Maybe the injuries were linked, maybe not. Ellis wondered what had come first, the chicken or the egg, but he did not believe in coincidences and decided he should pass his observations onto the proper authorities. He was not directly involved in the investigation although as the night wore on he occasionally wished he was. However, he had his job to do and, presently, this did not include prying into people's personal affairs. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky after all. Perhaps his job was easier than raking up dirt. In response to Catherine's questions, the colonel tried to be reassuring. He wished he had the answers, for his benefit as well as hers. When he guided her to the waiting room, Jesse knew its occupants would look to him in expectation. They did that each time he popped in, so he had already taken to avoiding the place when he could. Nothing new to report sounded kind of hollow and stuck in his throat. As they walked, Jesse was unhappy with the notion that Catherine would be sitting upset and worried amongst all those strangers in the room. He hoped she might find some friendly faces in SG-1. Just as he thought, everyone looked up in anticipation as Ellis ushered her into the room, and he hastened to forestall them by announcing he had no further news. The numbers in the room had thinned slightly, and he noticed one of the SFs was missing, probably off keeping tabs as instructed. Once again, he suggested the occupants might be better occupied elsewhere, get a good night's sleep, he would keep them informed. He hoped at least some of them would take the hint, although knew others would not. No way was SG-1 leaving, for example, and he doubted Ms Fellowes would any time soon either. Most of the others had no personal interest in O'Neill's fate - strictly business as far as they were concerned. Jesse would feel way better if they left. A number of individual headaches he could live without. When Catherine walked in, hobbling slightly he noticed, Daniel recognized her immediately and stood while she and Jesse approached. "Jesse," he acknowledged with a nod before the man had time to say anything. "And you're Catherine, right?" She looked up at the colonel for some reassurance and he smiled encouragingly, so Catherine turned back to face Daniel. The other two members of SG-1 had been slower to realize who she was, but now also rose from their chairs, although they hung back and allowed Daniel to greet her. "I'm Daniel Jackson, Jack's friend." He tried to be surreptitious in his examination. Obviously, the woman had been beaten, and recently. Like Ellis, he realized that the attack on Jack seemed unlikely to be a simple coincidence and wondered what the heck was going on. Injuries caused by a personal matter might be an improvement on the potential SGC security threat scenario they all feared. Not that Daniel cared right now. All he truly cared about was for Jack to be okay. Catherine smiled faintly, but seemed dazed. Daniel thought it must have smarted for her to use her facial muscles in that way. If not for the dark swelling, partially hidden by the sunglasses but still obvious, he had no doubt the smile would have been attractive, warm and welcoming. Not surprising she was preoccupied, he supposed, given her boyfriend's current plight. "Daniel Jackson," Catherine repeated in a distracted tone and Daniel figured he could not have expected a hello, nice to meet you and a handshake in the circumstances. "Will you look after Ms Fellowes for me while I go press for some news about the general?" Ellis asked. His eyes met Daniel's and the archeologist mumbled agreement. After exchanging a few whispered words with the remaining SF on his way out, Jesse retreated, leaving Catherine in Daniel's care. Daniel lightly grasped her arm and steered her towards the others. Unsurprisingly in the circumstances, Catherine's manner was anxious and agitated, so he tried soothing her. "Don't worry. Jack's had worse. He'll be fine. He's tough," he said reassuringly, although with more confidence than he felt. Catherine seemed to need the optimism and so, frankly, did he. One cannot always be certain about cases of internal bleeding and it continued to nag at him. "Come. Sit down." Carter and Teal'c looked her up and down curiously but did not allude to her injuries. Catherine's bruising did not seem to be fresh, as if it might have occurred a few days before. It was beginning to change color as bruising does a little while after the initial injury - looking worse before it gets better. They had all witnessed such damage many times. Like Daniel, they started put two and two together, although for all they knew they might have jumped to the wrong conclusions, miscalculated by totaling the sum to five rather than four. Certainly, O'Neill had not done this to her. Such a thing was not in his nature, of that they were confident. Sure, they had seen him pissed off, many times, but none of them believed Jack capable of this kind of abuse. This hinted at what might have happened. Maybe O'Neill knew who had done this thing to Catherine, sought revenge, and it had bitten him on the ass in a big way. That would not have surprised any of his team, particularly Teal'c. They all knew what O'Neill could be capable of. It was possible. All of them pondered the implications of Jack O'Neill having met his match. It was possible but for someone with his training it seemed unlikely to them. Not if he had been ready for them. So, they figured his assailants, and there surely had to be more than one, must have caught him off guard. Of course, they might all be surmising too much, but they suspected there was more to this than met the eye, or the guessing game they were all playing. Perhaps it was better not to speculate for now. "This is Sam Carter and... um... Teal'c," Daniel said, introducing them. At the last second, he decided to introduce Teal'c by his real name. He had no idea what Jack had told her about them or how he planned on introducing Teal'c to her, but it seemed the right thing to do. She barely appeared to notice the unusual name or, certainly, she did not comment. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances," said Catherine, pulling herself together a little and shaking their hands. "I'm sorry, Daniel," she added, remembering her manners and holding out her hand to shake his too. "I-I..." Her words tailed away and she looked vulnerable and bewildered. Carter ushered her to a chair and encouraged her to sit, trying to be comforting. She could have used some comfort herself, but it helped to have someone else to be concerned about apart from the general. "I guess I didn't want to meet you all looking like this. That's why Jack cancelled the barbeque. I suppose you knew that." Catherine pointed to her face, knowing very well that the sunglasses did not really hide her swollen bruises. The friends exchanged glances, her words seeming to add weight to their individual theorizing. None of them mentioned Jack had not cancelled the barbeque, or at least he had not told them about it. "But, now... I wanted this to go better. You're his friends." She had so wished to make a good first impression on these people and this was not it. "Um... what happened?" Sam ventured to ask. "Jack didn't tell you?" Catherine asked, a little surprised that Jack had not mentioned it. On the other hand, they were talking about Jack O'Neill. She knew he could be a very private man. "No." "Oh!" Catherine's brow furrowed into a frown of puzzlement. "I didn't know. I thought he might have told you. I suppose that's very Jack. Not to say anything." "Yeah, well I guess he's been, um, preoccupied," Daniel responded compassionately, knowing very well that Jack was never likely to have told them anything much when it came to something happening in his private life. Catherine sighed, raising a hand to her mouth and wiping it over her hair in an anxious gesture of misery. "This is my fault!" she exclaimed heatedly, directing her ire at herself. Tears pricked in her eyes, but they never came. Sam placed an arm around her and gave her a squeeze, hastily removing it when Catherine winced. "I'm sorry," Carter said apologetically but Catherine did not react. Instead, her eyes roamed around the room taking in her surroundings and observing its other occupants, who seemed to be viewing her with curiosity. She recalled Colonel Ellis explaining that a number of people were taking an interest in Jack's predicament. Catherine figured it came with his job. She tried to ignore their stares and focus on the small room. The decor was quite plain in a shade of off white and the furniture was tasteful with comfortable blue chairs and a table of the type that hospital employees might use for small meetings. She wondered if this place was not actually a waiting room at all. Now she looked closer it did not seem like any she had ever seen. Not that Catherine had much experience of hospital waiting rooms. Most of her trips to hospital had been as a patient. Some decent art reproductions brightened the plain walls. Catherine recognized Cezanne and Monet along with a blue period Picasso. In her opinion, whoever had chosen them had good taste. Her thoughts drifted to art, her work and the devastation her ex had wreaked. He had failed to damage one artwork. It had not been in her studio at the time but in her suitcase. She was going to give it to Jack as a present while they were in Denver. Charlie. Jack did not even know she had finished the portrait. "Are you all right?" Daniel asked pulling her back to the here and now. Dumb question. All right? Of course she was not all right. What was he thinking? "My fault," she said distractedly. Daniel took a breath, plunging in as only he could. "What do you mean, Catherine? What happened?" "It must have been Pete. He planned this. That's why he came. He was after Jack the whole time," she replied. "Pete? You mean your ex, Peter Rodgers?" Daniel queried. Jack had told him a little about the man and he did not sound like a very nice guy. "Jack will be okay, won't he?" Catherine asked as if she had not heard his question. It seemed to Daniel they probably would not get a lot of sense out of her right now. She was too upset, her mind going off at tangents. He decided not to press, keep the questions for later. Anyway, he figured the cops might be onto this one. No doubt, there would be many questions, and hopefully just as many answers. "He's always okay," Carter said reassuringly, echoing Daniel's earlier words of encouragement. Like her team mate, Sam wished she was as confident as she sounded. Her CO had limits and one of these days, his luck might run out. She just hoped today would not be that day. "I am confident that O'Neill will make a complete recovery," interjected Teal'c, speaking for the first time since Catherine had arrived. Catherine smiled weakly at the supportive friends. "I hope you're right." She recalled Daniel saying Jack had suffered worse and it made her wonder. Knowing he had been captured in Iraq and tortured, but little else, she assumed they were talking about that. Maybe there was more. "He's been injured before?" she asked probingly, wishing to learn what she could about Jack from his friends. Knowing the often secretive nature of the military and Jack, however, she did not pin her hopes on an informative response. "Sure. That's the military for you," Daniel replied in an earnest tone, but he did not elucidate further. "Sometimes I wish I knew more about what he's done, what he does." "Yeah. Well, Jack keeps his cards close to his chest. You've probably noticed that," said Daniel with a smile, which she returned. Just as she suspected, his friends seemed unlikely to give anything away. It appeared to Daniel that Catherine's focus had improved slightly and he wondered if it was worth asking her some of those questions they needed answers to. "Do you know anything about what happened to Jack?" he asked, fidgeting with his glasses and pushing them up his nose awkwardly. "Not really. I haven't seen him since yesterday morning. He called me earlier." She choked up slightly. "He wanted to stay. You know how protective he is. He was worried my ex would come back. But I wanted some time alone. I wish... if I hadn't... maybe he'd be okay now. This might not have happened." Daniel took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "So your husband did this to you?" he queried and Catherine nodded. "We were meant to be going to Denver... but..." she said, providing a time frame for the team at last. They knew about the planned trip to Denver. Jack was taking Catherine to the opera. They should have returned this morning in plenty of time for Jack's barbeque this afternoon. Obviously, the couple had never made it to Denver. Catherine's ex had other plans, it seemed. "Don't blame yourself, Catherine," Sam said. Her tone was supportive. No woman deserved this kind of beating from any man under any circumstances. It made her blood boil to think about it and she could understand why Jack would be so protective, and extremely pissed. He might be capable of almost anything in those circumstances, she thought. He was always protective enough of his team and other members of the SGC, would do almost anything to keep them from harm. She dreaded to think what he was capable of if someone hurt a person he cared for like he probably did Catherine. Her anger flared just below the surface, on Catherine's behalf and partly at O'Neill, but she realized this was not the right time and place to express it. Sam was pissed with Jack for getting himself hurt so badly, pissed that he had never asked for their help, pissed at the world in general. It was all part of the emotional turmoil sparked by her frustration and distress, especially now she had learned this about Catherine's ex. Carter recalled her misunderstanding with O'Neill a few weeks before, when she had overheard him talking to Daniel about Catherine's Pete and believed him to be referring to her fiance. No wonder Jack had such a low opinion of the man, if he was capable of something like this. It made her curious about Catherine's past, but she would never pry. "So you think your ex husband did this to Jack?" Daniel probed. "Possibly," she replied. "If he did, he wasn't alone. Pete's a coward. Only cowards beat up woman, right? And he likes doing that. Gets a kick from it. Makes him feel superior, dominant. He's sick, but he isn't stupid. He could never have done this to Jack by himself. Wouldn't have the guts. But I have no proof. It's only guesswork." At that moment, the door opened, interrupting their conversation. Everyone looked toward it, hopeful they were about to get some answers. Carter gasped with surprise as the newcomer entered the room - her fiance, Pete Shanahan. 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 The atmosphere at the SGC was subdued. Most people were tense, slightly agitated. Waiting. Waiting for news of their Commanding Officer. It was late, the graveyard shift, but some people who should have left the mountain hours before were still hanging around. Waiting. Waiting for news of their Commanding Officer. Walter Harriman was one such man. O'Neill could sometimes be irritating but Walter cared more than he would admit about the general. He, along with many others under the general's command, would do almost anything for the man. That included a long and sleepless night worrying. Waiting. Waiting for news of his Commanding Officer. O'Neill could be dark, dismissive and sometimes appear to be rude. On the other hand, he could be humorous, amiable and inspirational. Whatever his mood, Walter knew his CO cared deeply for each and every person under his command. He would bend over backwards to help any one of them if they needed it, and they would return the favor. When one of them was hurt, so was O'Neill. He felt it in his soul. The general had been a great team leader, proven his ability on the field of battle heading the premier team in the SGC, saving the planet, the universe. He and SG-1 had done it all and seen it all. Walter had witnessed the man get injured many times. He would return through the gate white as a sheet, bleeding, burned, limping, shot full of holes, sometimes close to dying. But, unless he was actually unconscious, his primary concern would almost certainly be for his team. They came first. Always. His adventures, bravery and attitude had won him many friends and admirers in the SGC, first and foremost his own team. O'Neill could appear cynical and acerbic, but in reality he was a man who savored life, his and others, and kept hope alive, kept them fighting. Walter realized his CO had found his transition from leader of SG-1 to Commander of the SGC tough. It was not an easy job and General Hammond was a hard act to follow. Although O'Neill tried not to show it, the sergeant knew he agonized about his decisions, the impact they might have on his subordinates and the whole planet. He had one hell of a job to do, but then in Harriman's humble opinion O'Neill was one hell of an officer. The sergeant knew the job of the general was poles apart from his previous team leader role, and that sometimes his boss faltered. Publically, O'Neill exuded confidence, making decisions swiftly and resolutely. But, in supporting his CO, Walter had witnessed private moments, brief flickers of self-doubt and torment. Having worked there from the beginning, he had observed so much of what had happened during many of the more major incidents. He knew his CO was one of the best and he would be hard pressed to find better. The control room was quiet, almost peaceful, and Walter stared thoughtfully at the Stargate. The gigantic ring of glyphs was a beautiful sight. Even after all these years, he still thought so. And when the seventh chevron locked, and the enormous wave burst forth leaving a shimmering blue pool in its wake, it grew even more extraordinary. Walter thought he was lucky to work in this wondrous place. To some, his job might seem mundane, but not to him. He contributed to one of the most awesome projects that had ever existed in the history of the human race. An endeavor so secret that very few people on Earth even knew of its existence. And he served a righteous cause. Who could ask for more than that? The things he had seen were mind-blowing. Aliens, hundreds of inhabited planets, other galaxies, space wars, star ships, near-miss invasions. And he, Walter Harriman, was part of it. Mundane? Huh! He felt really badly about the general, and not simply because of what he had experienced at the SGC. Although their SGC connection was random chance, the two men had a history. They had worked on the same base before and O'Neill was good to him, encouraging him as a mere airman to strive for more. There was a time when Walter had thought about giving up on the Air Force. He seemed to be getting nowhere, but O'Neill turned him around, helping instill the confidence go for it. If not for him, Walter would probably not be at the SGC now but doing some kind of genuinely mundane job as a civilian, and he would not have missed this experience for the world. So, he had a lot to be grateful to O'Neill for, but not many people on the base knew about that shared history. Walter could be quite the gossip sometimes, but some things he kept mainly to himself. He knew when to shut up and put up and he knew who to trust with his secrets. Jack O'Neill would have been one of those trusted people, if Walter ever had any real secrets to share. The general could be a formidable man. Quite scary actually. Walter had had occasion to feel that fear and intimidation. On the other hand, who on the base had not been on its receiving end? The sergeant respected those aspects of O'Neill. A general had to be daunting as well as approachable and inspiring. O'Neill was all of those things, and much more. The man was a hero, but a humble one. His sometimes apparent arrogance was just a front. Walter liked that about him. "You all right, sergeant?" asked a voice behind him, and Walter started, surprised by the sudden appearance of his acting commander, Colonel Eastman. "Yes sir," he replied smartly, standing. Eastman sported the closest of close cropped haircuts and a face of iron. Walter did not like him that much. He was not a very likeable man. The colonel lacked a sense of humor, it seemed, and had an air of unpleasant superiority about him. Certainly, he was no Jack O'Neill. But, right now, he was the boss. If Walter had known him better, he might have thought differently. Eastman was not such a bad guy and he had some excellent traits. But Walter did not know him better. Not like he knew O'Neill. This was not the first time Eastman had stepped in to run the base and probably would not be the last. It was part of his job to take charge sometimes if his CO was absent. Normally, he took it in his stride. This time was different. This time he really would rather not have been the man in charge. Sure, he covered for vacations or weekends, that kind of thing, but he was very uncomfortable with the reasons he was covering now. The whole base was uneasy because of O'Neill, and Eastman was no different. It stuck in his craw that the main reason he was here was because his CO was lying injured in hospital, particularly when no one yet knew if he would be all right. O'Neill's XO, Jesse Ellis, would keep him apprised of the situation with O'Neill, but Eastman did not wish to hear bad news, or be its harbinger. If the news was good, he would be happy to shout about it through all the highways and byways of Cheyenne Mountain, but if it was not... Not only would most of the SGC be upset, but Eastman himself would be pretty darned pissed. He liked O'Neill. "Where's the lieutenant?" he asked, referring to Lt. Baker, who should have been covering the control room. Walter winced, hoping the colonel would not be angry. "I said he could go get something to eat, sir. That I would cover for him, as I'm here." "Fine." Much to Walter's surprise, Eastman smiled, viewing him with a sympathetic eye. "Why don't you go home, sergeant?" the colonel suggested kindly. "I'd rather wait here, sir." "I understand," he replied compassionately, patting the sergeant on the shoulder. And he did understand. Eastman knew Harriman would hear any news of O'Neill faster here on the base than back at home. The sergeant was waiting. The colonel empathized with that loyalty and kind of envied O'Neill for inspiring it. "Sit, sergeant." "Yes, sir." Walter did as he as told, keeping a wary eye on his CO. "He's a tough old bird. He'll be fine," the colonel said, attempting reassurance. "Yes sir. I hope so, colonel." Eastman sighed. "Yeah. We all do. The whole base is miserable. But all we can do is wait." Walter said nothing, but detected the genuine concern for O'Neill in Eastman's demeanor. Maybe he was not such a bad guy, after all, he thought. To his astonishment, Eastman sat down next to him, and the two men stared out at the Stargate in comradely silence for a while. Waiting. Waiting for news of their Commanding Officer. TBC |