Chapter Nine

Jonas fidgeted from foot to foot waiting politely for Janet to finish with the two team personnel being patched up. In his mind, he could still vividly see the emesis bowl containing a streak of blood and the faint pink that colored the colonel's near gray lips.

With the utmost care, he had wiped the bloodstains from the colonel's chin clean with a damp cloth, all too eager to erase the reminder that it was his inaction that had caused the death of a man who had been willing to sacrifice himself for a people who he didn't even know, himself included. It should have been him, he should have done something, but he had hesitated, and a man who he had just met 'had' acted - and died - in his place. Now every move Jonas made - everything he did - were those of a man determined to make restitution for that awful sacrifice.

For now, Colonel O'Neill was curled on his side, his gray lips and parchment-thin skin a reminder of his complicity in acquiring the naquadria, the instrument of another possible death that could be laid at his door.

Quinn had to ensure that Colonel O'Neill survived, not just as a salve to his own guilt-ridden conscience, but also to stay true to his vow to act as Daniel Jackson's stand-in on this plain of existence. Yes, he knew that Jackson was not 'technically' dead. But would such an evolved being, awash in the knowledge and sensations of an entire universe be aware of the pain of just one man? Jonas would have liked to have believed yes, but there was so much and humans were so few in that larger scale. Who would notice if just one man suddenly ceased to be?

"Jonas?"

So deep in thought had he been that Doctor Fraiser had caught him unawares, rapidly his mind switched gears. The only miracle that would happen for the colonel would be one brought about by his friends and colleagues - and one very lonely and outcast alien - him.

"Doctor, I need to speak to you regarding Colonel O'Neill."

Janet Fraiser's face was thoughtful as he watched her study his face, something must have been favorable there because she gently led him to a quiet corner of the Infirmary where she explained the horrific appearance of blood in O'Neill's spew.

"While the blood in his vomit is alarming, I was expecting it." Janet laid a hand on his arm as he opened his mouth to object. "Wait and I'll explain."

Jonas smiled uncertainly and nodded.

"The blood signifies that the colonel's body has reached its tolerance limit to the Naquadah solution - or Naquadah Nectar as the colonel calls it. We're ready to initiate the next stage of his treatment, but I need to warn you that this will mean your duties become more... intimate." Janet's eyes searched his face for his reaction to her news.

"Intimate?" Quinn's eyes widened with unasked questions.

"Wait a minute; before you go jumping to conclusions, let me explain. I want to assure you that there will be a limit to the amount of physical contact you have with the colonel, mainly for his own peace of mind. Full clean up will still be done by my nursing staff. He might be very ill, but Colonel O'Neill's dignity needs to be preserved at all costs."

Jonas nodded, relieved. "Of course, Doctor, I'll do whatever you want me to. It's the least I can do to make up for my part in this mess."

Janet paused and then nodded as she appeared to be evaluating his statement. "The colonel will receive several injections for the pain and to ease his body's attempt to reject the Nectar, so will be barely conscious during this phase. You will be in charge of his feeding and physical needs, but not bathing. My nurses will handle that. Besides, I don't think the colonel would stand for it anyway, no matter how sick or out of it he might be."

Jonas flashed back to his first inadvertent view of the colonel sprawled on the floor, and the man's horrified reaction. He knew from the warmth that crept up his neck and face that he was flushed red with embarrassment.

No, Doctor Fraiser was right, any repeat of that episode would do more harm than good. And so far, the doctor had not asked him to do anything that he wasn't willing to do.

"I totally agree. The last thing I want to do is to make the colonel any more uncomfortable than he already is about the whole situation."

Janet smiled and seemed relieved. "Good, I knew I could count on you. We're ready to start the next phase of his treatment. And, as much as I hate to admit it, we have Rodney McKay to thank for part of it."

Jonas cocked his head in puzzled surprise. "McKay?"

"Yes, he designed pellets to be taken internally by the colonel. As they pass through his digestive system, they will detect any radiation left in his body. Once they are excreted, the pellets will tell us how effective the Naquadah Nectar was and just when its use can be stopped." Janet looked tired but smiled with encouragement. "So there is an end in sight, and part of your job will be to convince our patient that there is hope. I won't kid you, Jonas. Both his physical and mental conditions have taken a beating and his energy reserves are at an all-time low. Your encouragement will be critical to convincing Colonel O'Neill that there is a light at the end of the tunnel."

"So the pellets will be passed through his digestive system and come out in his...?"

Janet pursed her lips primly which made Jonas suspect she'd already thought this part through, "Yes, in his bowel movements. So it is essential that this be monitored closely."

"Will I have to... find the pellets... after...?"

Janet smiled mischievously, "No, I think your duties will not encompass that area. It will be your job to watch over the colonel and convince him to hold on, that he's already gotten through the worst of it."

"I just hope I'm up to it, Doctor."

Janet sighed and looked worried. "So do I, Jonas. So do I."

***

Janet had breezed in and injected something that made him floaty, but it did moderate the endless cramping - almost. Then she'd given him some white pellets to take, though the explanation didn't make much sense at the time, something about mini-radiation sensors?

No, matter, he'd have willingly taken cyanide, if only for the promise that his agony would finally be at an end. But this promised more than a simple end to... everything, so he'd swallowed them and hoped they stayed down. Thus far, they had - which was a huge relief.

Now his discomfort consisted of rolling waves of contractions that rippled across his abdomen like the ripples in his pond that surrounded the bobber at the end of his fishing line. They traveled over his stomach and then descended into that lower area before Carter Country began. Thankfully those waves drowned out the firebrands atop his shoulders and made the late maddening itch just another bad memory.

Curiously, his stomach seemed to be absent. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. In fact, that was something to cheer about. That is if only he had enough energy to give a damn. Which he didn't.

She'd muttered something about how he'd reached his tolerance level. Then she had gone on to explain that the reason that she hadn't done this sooner was because what with the flu he was suffering from - even if he was at the end of that - it had been difficult to tell if the Nectar or the 'bug' was causing the problem.

Jack guessed it was the blood he'd started to puke up that decided her. He could feel her worry clear through the door and it worried him that she was worried. Heck, he'd even volunteered to take more than the prescribed amount of the stuff.

Then she'd told him that he could - after - the injections. That really worried him. But then he'd stopped worrying; it took way too much energy. And he just plain didn't have any to spare.

Now he just lay here enduring again. Somehow it was even worse than before. He just wasn't' sure why yet. Give him time, though, he'd figure it out. Provided he had the time left to do it in.

All the crapping and puking explained why he was so beat, hurting and despondent. Yep, he had been and he could admit that to himself. Contrary to what some others thought, he knew that he had problems, but he knew his limitations too. He got blue just like everyone else, just maybe a little bit more often. He just didn't allow himself to indulge. Not usually anyway. But this was different - like a cancer eating him away from the inside out.

A cool cloth lightly skimmed across his face and he didn't even start, being beyond reacting anymore. The warm moisture felt good against his tight dry skin and he couldn't help the moan of guilty pleasure at just letting go. Just allowing himself to drift, savoring the comfort others were willing to provide. Pride be damned. Pride took too much energy, so did thinking. It was much easier to just drift...

***

General Hammond stepped away from the bay window in the briefing room and skirted the table as he headed for his office. Behind him, the new Russian 'gate slowly descended from the hole in the ceiling, guided by the expert directions of Siler and McKay, despite Rodney's superior 'I'm the genius here' interference. The Russians had taken their time in delivering on their part of the bargain, but at long last it had arrived.

George smiled as he settled into his chair and picked up the latest report from Dr. Fraiser. It concerned his 2IC, Colonel Jack O'Neill. George nodded as he read, the pellets had been given to him and the medical staff were awaiting their reappearance. He grunted with satisfaction.

"General?" Walter Harriman looked apologetic as he stood just inside his office door. "Captain Christian from the Enterprise is on line one for you."

"Fine. I've been expecting his call. Thank you, Sergeant."

He picked up his phone. "Hammond."

There was a short burst of static that made George wince. "This is Captain Christian, sir. I wanted to thank you for sending us our flight suit. It arrived about half an hour ago, special delivery."

"I'm glad to hear that. And what about my man's suit?"

"That's what I was calling about. It was located and put onboard one of our out-bound choppers. You should be getting it at any time now. By the way, how is your man doing?"

"He's been pretty sick, but we have hopes that he'll make a full recovery."

"That's good to hear. Let me know if there's anything else we can do to help."

"I'll do that, and thanks for all you've done."

"Not a problem. Always glad to help. Christian out."

***

Despite Doctor Fraiser's reassurances Jonas watched a quiescent Colonel O'Neill. He knew the man blamed him for his friend's absence, yet he lay docilely and allowed him to care for him. Drinking when requested, taking the pellets without complaint. No words were spoken, no eye contact made. Jonas worried. This was not the Colonel O'Neill he knew. That vibrant, larger-than-life man was absent.

It was the drugs. Doctor Fraiser explained their importance, but he detected something, something she'd not voiced; and the look in the colonel's eyes as he watched her inject them into his IV. Even in his current state of disconnected being, the colonel would drift back to watch each and every injection given each and every time by Fraiser - and by no one else.

Jonas just knew that the drugs was something the colonel didn't approve of, that look on his face that proclaimed his distrust and abhorrence of being drugged to somnolence during the injection was way too close to the look turned his way in the man's few unguarded moments.

The only break in the near monotony of keeping watch over his charge was broken by the quiet moans and restlessness that accompanied the colonel's bowel movements; a painful process, insulting because it accumulated into such a personal degradation of privacy.

But this time there was more than a suspension of personal dignity. Joyce, the lead of the two nurses who were present to cleanse the colonel of his latest degradation gave him the most out of place smile he'd ever witnessed. Especially considering she was gazing in rapt wonder at the soiled linen just removed from under his team leader, he was extremely puzzled.

"Well, well, would you look at that?"

Puzzled enough to look himself, at her invitation; he smiled just as wondrously himself at when he saw what lay within the smelly crumpled bedding.

"I think Mr. McKay needs to become involved in his project. Don't you agree?" Joyce asked with a smile that reminded Jonas of the mischievous glint in the eyes of Doctor Fraiser earlier.

Quinn's own smile was just a radiant as he nodded. "I'll go find him."

He knew just where to look and found the man lurking just outside Major Carter's lab. Without preamble or explanation he hooked his arm through McKay's and dragged him sputtering and squawking down the halls of the SGC, causing a stir of laughter and consternation in the personnel lucky enough to witness it.

Jonas succeeded in pulling McKay into the small room previously reserved for the purpose that he'd brought the man to the Infirmary for.

"What the Hell is this all about?" Shouted an angry, red-faced Rodney.

"Hold on, the explanation is about to be delivered," Jonas smiled disarmingly and mimed taking a few deep cleansing breaths, encouraging the man to relax.

Soon the door bumped open catching McKay's attention as a burdened Infirmary nurse backed into the room.

***

Joyce set the sealed laundry container on the table between McKay and Quinn. With no more explanation than a quick smile that bordered on a knowing smirk, she turned and left the room at a trot.

McKay took the initiative and opened the container; he danced back, one hand over his mouth while the other pinched shut his nose. "Argh! What is that... shit?"

Jonas carefully moved closer, but moved back as his own nose caught a whiff of what was escaping from the open container. "I think that's it, exactly."

McKay gaped in horror. "You aren't serious."

"I'm afraid that I am," Jonas replied as he kept his distance from the open container.

McKay's face paled as the reason for the odiferous delivery dawned on him. "No, it can't be."

"What?" That question was uttered with a distinctive feminine tone and definitely did not belong to Jonas, unless he had serious problems with his underwear that Rodney didn't want to know about.

Janet Fraiser laughed and Rodney jumped. When had she come into the room? And more importantly, why was she here?

"You don't want to look for your pellets, Rodney?"

"I'm not touching that!" McKay animatedly pointed back at the table, all the while standing as far away as possible.

"Neither am I! It was your idea," Quinn calmly declared.

"But... but... I'm the genius," Rodney almost shouted, red-faced and upset.

"And I'm not? I didn't see you reciting the Iliad in its original Greek to the colonel."

"Jonas has duties elsewhere," Janet ground out with the finality and triumph of Patton ordering his tanks into Berlin. "Now."

Jonas left the room like a man given a last minute reprieve, which, Rodney considered ruefully, wasn't that far off base. 'But it's not fair. A genius like me shouldn't have to... dirty his hands in... this.'

Rodney smiled at the woman who seemed to have become his executioner somewhere along the way. "Surely you don't mean for me to . . ." His hands fluttered in the direction of the open container. "Do you?"

Janet crossed her arms and, for someone who he swore was shorter than he was, managed to look him dead in the eye. "Do what?"

"You know what I mean..."

"No, suppose you spell it out to me, Rodney. I'm not a genius like you and can't figure these things out by myself."

Rodney winced. 'She'd heard that? Oh, that wasn't good. Not that I meant anything bad about it. I was, after all, just stating the facts. Surely she understood that . . . didn't she?'

"Oh, yes, that." Rodney's smile withered like the leaf of a tree in a late spring freeze.

"Yes, that." Janet kept her arms crossed, the tapping of her toes on the concrete keeping time with her words. "Did you, or did you not, make a promise to me that you would handle the recovery of your pellets?"

McKay shrugged and looked away. "Well, technically, yes I did, but I..."

"Technically?" The woman had somehow snuck up on him again and Rodney jumped at her uncomfortable proximity to his person. 'How does she do that?' he wondered.

"Mister McKay, do I need to schedule you for your prostate exam? With the visiting medical trainees?"

"But I didn't..." Rodney gasped and clenched his buttocks together in anticipation of the threatened invasion. "I really didn't think my pellets..."

"You didn't think your pellets would come out mixed in a bowel movement?" She arched her eyebrows in seeming disbelief. "What did you think it would be? Tapioca pudding?"

"That's not fair," Rodney snapped as a crimson stain spread from his shirt collar up into his face.

"Quite frankly, Mister McKay, all I care about is the welfare of my patient. And your idiotic pride is stopping me from doing that. Or would you rather I inform Major Carter of your refusal to uphold your promise to me... and her?"

"You..." his mouth opened and shut like a beached mackerel gasping for air. "You and her?"

"Talk?" Janet smiled grimly. "At every opportunity. That's what friends do." Her words left the impression that she didn't think he would know about that because he didn't have any - friends that is.

He frowned as he realized she might know something that he didn't - social-relationship-wise, and then comforted himself with the sure knowledge that his IQ had to be at least 20 points higher than hers. He studiously ignored the niggling little voice that reminded him that Samantha's IQ was at least as high as his, if not higher - and that she had friends - friends like Doctor Fraiser.

When that voice went on to state that she was also much more creative than he was, he told it firmly to shut up. It didn't listen, as usual.

For once he had very little to say. The female Hitler seemed to take his silence as his acquiescence to her wishes. 'Smart woman.'

"I brought you the supplies you'll need." She pointed to a table piled high. "You'll find face masks, gloves, and plenty of disinfectant. Be sure to use them. The last thing I need is for you to get contaminated through your own carelessness."

Even though she'd left the room her very angry and domineering aura lingered. Rodney reflected that she had left him with the distinct impression that she had severe doubts as to his ability to use her supplies correctly.

On the other hand, he wondered if he could move up his departure time for Siberia. It was beginning to look positively sunny in comparison to the chilly reception he was getting from Dr. Fraiser, not to mention what Samantha Carter would say to him if he reneged on his promise to her.

'But it's not fair,' he whined to himself. 'Shut up and start sifting shit, Rodney.' Why did his inner voice sound more and more like the doctor instead of his mother?

***

Major Samantha Carter knocked on the door of General Hammond's office and paused with her hand still raised. Her other hand was fisted at her side.

"General Hammond?"

The general closed the lid of his laptop and waved her inside. "Come in, Major. What can I do for you?"

"I finished testing the colonel's flight suit, sir."

"Good... and the results?"

"According to my tests, the residual radiation levels in the suit were far below what any of us, including me, expected. This leads me to believe that my original hypothesis that the iris protected or diverted the worst of the radiation away from the colonel was correct."

"So, no long-term damage to his body once his treatment is completed?"

Sam flushed and nibbled on her lower lip. "Sir, insofar as my limited knowledge of medicine goes, damage to a human would be low to nil. Of course we won't know for certain until Dr. Fraiser runs some tests with..."

Her voice died away and she ducked her head with embarrassment as she realized what she was about to say, and to whom she was about to say it to. Thankfully, the general seemed not to notice. Or at least didn't comment on it, for which she was immensely grateful. Come to think of it, there was very little that escaped the notice of General Hammond. Perhaps it was best that certain things were left unsaid - for now.

"Good, I'm certain that we are all relieved to hear that, as will be the colonel when he's told."

"Do you want me to...?"

"No, I think Dr. Fraiser would be the right person to do that, major."

"But I..."

"As much as I hate it, we have to respect the colonel's wishes. Which means that he gets his privacy. God knows the man deserves it considering all that he's been through lately."

Sam stifled any further protest. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Hammond's face softened. "I know this has been hard on you, Sam. The members of SG-1 have all been very close. That's part of what makes your team so successful and special. And with the recent death of Dr. Jackson, I know you wanted to be there for him. But he wants his privacy. We need to respect his wishes in that. We owe the man that much."

Sam nodded and left any other words she might have voiced unsaid. The important thing was that her dream of their future together as husband and wife was still intact - the colonel - Jack - could still give her the children she wanted. That was what was most important.

While it was true that she would have liked to have given him the news herself, buts she realized it would probably be more proper for Janet to do it. Besides, she hadn't been sure she would have been able to tell him without crossing the line that took their relationship out of the room like they'd promised.

Yes, she could live with that. And what was more important, the colonel could - and would - too.