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applecameronTitle: Do Not Go Gently
Author: Apple Cameron
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: n/a
Keywords: angst
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: Are you going to hate me if I tell you this is basically an angsty finger-exercise?
Frasier had just about run out of things to do. Some hotshot endocrinologist was flying out from Edwards, but he wouldn't be there until 0300.
1245. Dear God, please hold on until 0300.
So she held Jack's hand, covering the wrist with her fingers and pretending to take his pulse. As effective as anything else she'd tried. After a while, she dropped the pretense and just held on. No one was buying it anyway.
"Fucking bugs." The voice was harsh.
"Language, Sam."
The snippiness level of her answer betrayed two things: exactly how tired Major Carter was, and exactly how worried she was. There was damned little Janet could do about either, a condition that would have made her seethe if she hadn't been falling-down-weary herself.
Ordering Sam into bed had had little effect, though her duty nurse had cleared the bed to the left of Jack's. The one on the other side was already occupied by Daniel Jackson, Doctor, and certifiable, to hear the debriefing. Building a wing-based vocabulary? I'm sorry, what?
Teal'c stood there. Janet had the insane belief he was blocking death from the door.
Shit. If it worked, it worked. The Colonel needed all the help he could get.
She held on. As long as they held on, he'd stay, right?
Right?
The first arrest came at 0114, not that Janet checked the time, she was too busy keeping Jack from going gently into that good night, god damn it. It took 450 Joules of premium Diehard, but he stayed.
Sam stood there, not moving unless pushed by someone else, eyes like saucers.
"Clear!" And again. Jesus, Mary, and Saint Christopher preserve us.
Teal'c, bodychecking Death as best he could.
Some days, even SG-1's best wasn't good enough. Daniel was pale in the bed-next-door, bandages on his chest white. There were...things in his bloodstream.
She'd have to watch for infection.
The second arrest wasn't for 82 minutes, thank god and all his angels. Only 200 Joules. Things were looking up, after a fashion.
Come practice cutting-edge medicine at the end of the known universe, Janet.
That was one way to put it.
Of course, "come eat your heart, raw, every day", was another.
She held on to Jack's wrist.
Author: Apple Cameron
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: n/a
Keywords: angst
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: Are you going to hate me if I tell you this is basically an angsty finger-exercise?
Frasier had just about run out of things to do. Some hotshot endocrinologist was flying out from Edwards, but he wouldn't be there until 0300.
1245. Dear God, please hold on until 0300.
So she held Jack's hand, covering the wrist with her fingers and pretending to take his pulse. As effective as anything else she'd tried. After a while, she dropped the pretense and just held on. No one was buying it anyway.
"Fucking bugs." The voice was harsh.
"Language, Sam."
The snippiness level of her answer betrayed two things: exactly how tired Major Carter was, and exactly how worried she was. There was damned little Janet could do about either, a condition that would have made her seethe if she hadn't been falling-down-weary herself.
Ordering Sam into bed had had little effect, though her duty nurse had cleared the bed to the left of Jack's. The one on the other side was already occupied by Daniel Jackson, Doctor, and certifiable, to hear the debriefing. Building a wing-based vocabulary? I'm sorry, what?
Teal'c stood there. Janet had the insane belief he was blocking death from the door.
Shit. If it worked, it worked. The Colonel needed all the help he could get.
She held on. As long as they held on, he'd stay, right?
Right?
The first arrest came at 0114, not that Janet checked the time, she was too busy keeping Jack from going gently into that good night, god damn it. It took 450 Joules of premium Diehard, but he stayed.
Sam stood there, not moving unless pushed by someone else, eyes like saucers.
"Clear!" And again. Jesus, Mary, and Saint Christopher preserve us.
Teal'c, bodychecking Death as best he could.
Some days, even SG-1's best wasn't good enough. Daniel was pale in the bed-next-door, bandages on his chest white. There were...things in his bloodstream.
She'd have to watch for infection.
The second arrest wasn't for 82 minutes, thank god and all his angels. Only 200 Joules. Things were looking up, after a fashion.
Come practice cutting-edge medicine at the end of the known universe, Janet.
That was one way to put it.
Of course, "come eat your heart, raw, every day", was another.
She held on to Jack's wrist.
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!!
on 2004-03-01 06:04 am (UTC)