stargate fic: another beginning's end (3/3)
Title: Another Beginning's End
Part 3 of 3.
***
Three hours later, Jack could have sworn he was baking in the middle of the desert. Hell, he would have happily taken a scorching if it meant the heat he was feeling came from a ruthless sun high above rather than radiating from the body of the young woman sleeping at his side. As the hours had passed, Carter's fever had climbed, and with it, so had Jack's concern.
The worry escalated even further as a violent fit of coughing jerked the lieutenant awake. She covered her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, shaking with the effort. As she pulled her hand away from her mouth, Jack saw her eyes widen in fear, her expression anguished as she took in the sight of her palm, wet and sticky with blood.
Son of a bitch! He couldn't allow her to lose hope now!
Grabbing a small washcloth from his satchel and some water from the canteen, Jack gently wiped the blood from her mouth and hand, all the while murmuring assurances that everything was going to be okay. He wasn't entirely sure he was getting through to her until he felt her fingers curl around his, faintly squeezing in response. Exhaling in relief, he threaded his fingers through her hair, coaxing her back into slumber.
Once certain she was fast asleep again, he moved away, pounding the wall with both fists, leaning forward until his forehead touched the cool surface, cursing his powerlessness. The rest of the night continued in agony, Carter frequently waking in the grip of coughing that progressively worsened. By the time the sky outside finally began its shift to a pre-dawn hue, Jack was ready to drop to his knees and send a prayer of thanks to whatever god may be listening that Carter had made it through the night.
It was finally time to go.
He was reluctant to move her, but there was no other choice. Carrying her to the rendezvous was out of the question; it would draw the wrong kind of attention. Walking was the only option. Packing up their things, he carefully helped her climb to her feet, her face draining of what little color it had left.
The earlier spark of pride Jack had felt for her flourished into a fierce admiration of her courage as she slowly put one foot in front of the other, never once complaining as they abandoned their safe haven and ventured into the outside world.
The streets were relatively empty at this hour, many of the citizens engaged in morning prayer. The two officers took advantage of the barren roads and made their way as quickly as they could, Jack's heart beating faster as Carter's breathing grew steadily more ragged.
She was not looking good at all, he thought, his arm tightening around her waist as he glanced at her, his stomach churning as he saw her battling to remain conscious. Every step was a struggle, but they continued to press forward, and at last, the entrance to the park came into view, Jack murmuring, "Almost there, Carter. Almost there."
It was then that their luck decided to run out.
Throwing a look over his shoulder, Jack cursed under his breath as he saw a small group of Republican Guard round the corner behind them. One of the soldiers took notice of the unsteady pair hurrying toward the park, pointing them out to his comrades, their suspicion mounting as they began following and calling out.
Her breath hitching in her throat, Carter turned to see how closely behind the soldiers were trailing. One of the Iraqis pointed at the young woman in recognition, and in that brief instant, the square erupted in shouting and gunfire.
The two officers raced toward the park, throwing themselves behind the brick wall that marked the entrance, Carter crying out as she hit the ground hard. Jack pushed her down, shielding her as best he could as dust and debris clouded the air as bullets pierced the wall.
Jack's head whipped around as he heard the familiar whine of rotor blades in the distance, and hope soared through his heart as he spotted the rescue chopper, maybe a mile or two out from their position. All they needed was to hang on for just a few more minutes.
Grabbing his gun from beneath his thawb, Jack returned fire, using the wall for cover as he discharged several shots in succession. The soldiers scattered to find defensible positions of their own, gunfire now echoing on both sides of the street. Sooner than he would have liked, Jack ducked back against the wall, hands working fast to replace his empty clip with a fresh one, looking up to check on Carter.
He blinked in surprise as Carter suddenly retrieved the handgun he had given her the previous night and took up the spot he had just vacated, firing back at the Iraqis. Once again, she had dug into the reserves of her strength, and his eyes widened in wonder as he saw one of her shots hit its mark, bringing down a man in a shower of red.
"Nice!" he murmured beneath his breath, giving her an appreciative smile.
All of a sudden, additional firepower began raining down upon the Republic Guard troops as the helicopter finally touched down twenty yards away, the Special Forces team within the aircraft providing cover for the pair of officers. The thundering sound of the rotors drowned out the sound of the firefight and the air was thick with dust, but Jack still could make out the silhouette of one of the soldiers motioning for them to make a run for it.
Slipping an arm around Carter's waist, Jack tried to help her get her feet beneath her, but the lieutenant's strength had finally abandoned her, the shock and trauma of her injuries betraying her iron will. Making a snap decision, he tossed his handgun aside and slid his other arm beneath her knees, scooping her up and sprinting toward the chopper.
Bullets whizzed by his head, clipping the sides of the chopper, and small explosions of dirt and rocks erupted along his path as more bullets almost hit their intended target. Jack barely saw any of it. His vision had narrowed to the solider waving him on, his hand extended and reaching for Jack.
He had covered half the distance to the awaiting helicopter when pain abruptly exploded in his shoulder and back, and he staggered at the numb realization that he'd been shot. His arms threatened to give out as he wobbled, but he’d be damned if he was going to drop Carter. He was going to complete his mission even if it killed him.
Holding onto her for dear life, Jack mustered the determination to take five more steps, launching himself inside the belly of the chopper, landing on his injured back with Carter tucked against his chest. He bit back a massive amount of curses as he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, as hands helped steady him.
It wasn't until he heard the reassuring thump-thump-thump of the rotor blades overhead and felt the familiar sensation of flying that he finally forced his eyes open, his vision partially obscured by wisps of blonde hair against his face. Pushing her hair away from her forehead, Jack idly wondered when the hell Carter had lost her head cloth, when his hand suddenly stopped, fingers tangled in her hair.
Those blue eyes were staring at him intently.
A multitude of emotions passed between them in a heartbeat as they stared at each other, gratitude and relief and something else that Jack could not quite place. Rather than dwell on it, he relinquished her to the gentle hands that were pulling her away from him and onto a gurney, giving her a rare, gentle smile.
The corners of her mouth lifted in response and her eyes drifted shut as the medics around her began tending to her injuries, her breathing evening out in a peaceful, pain-free slumber as one of the doctors gave her a dose of morphine.
Knowing Carter was finally safe and on the way home, Jack closed his own eyes as a couple of medics checked out his own injuries, letting oblivion claim him.
***
Epilogue
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
Germany
One week later
Jack O'Neill hopped off the examination table and adjusted his sling over his BDUs, grateful his latest check-up had been a smooth one and extremely happy he didn't have to deal with much of the poking and prodding he despised. The doctor had reported that the gunshot wound he had taken in the back of his shoulder was healing nicely and he was cleared to fly back to the States.
Back home.
There was, however, one last thing he needed to do first.
Shuffling his way through the hallways of the hospital, he found himself pausing in front of another room, leaning forward slightly to peer in through the window of the door. Two people occupied the room, one an older man wearing BDUs and a couple of stars pinned on his shirt collar, the other a young woman, dressed in a hospital gown and robe, her left arm in a sling, resting in her bed and talking rather animatedly with the man.
Jack could only stare as he watched Samantha Carter, marveling at how vibrant and full of life she appeared. Gone were the deathly pale skin, the dirt and grime, and the pained expressions she had tried to hide from him. Instead, she once more resembled the woman in the tattered photograph he still carried in his pocket, beautiful with her deep blue eyes and dimpled smile.
Her entire face lit up at a comment from the man, whom Jack assumed must have been her General father, the sound of her giggles penetrating through the door. He reached up, fingers suspended mere centimeters from the glass pane of the window, as if he could reach through it to touch her face one more time.
Taking a deep breath, Jack stopped, his hand dropping and digging into his pocket, retrieving the photo he had been given just over a week ago. His eyes looked through the glass one last time at First Lieutenant Samantha Carter, alive and whole, who was grinning broadly at her father, then turned away to walk down the hall.
A doctor found the photograph on the counter of the nurses' station an hour later.
End.
Part 3 of 3.
***
Three hours later, Jack could have sworn he was baking in the middle of the desert. Hell, he would have happily taken a scorching if it meant the heat he was feeling came from a ruthless sun high above rather than radiating from the body of the young woman sleeping at his side. As the hours had passed, Carter's fever had climbed, and with it, so had Jack's concern.
The worry escalated even further as a violent fit of coughing jerked the lieutenant awake. She covered her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, shaking with the effort. As she pulled her hand away from her mouth, Jack saw her eyes widen in fear, her expression anguished as she took in the sight of her palm, wet and sticky with blood.
Son of a bitch! He couldn't allow her to lose hope now!
Grabbing a small washcloth from his satchel and some water from the canteen, Jack gently wiped the blood from her mouth and hand, all the while murmuring assurances that everything was going to be okay. He wasn't entirely sure he was getting through to her until he felt her fingers curl around his, faintly squeezing in response. Exhaling in relief, he threaded his fingers through her hair, coaxing her back into slumber.
Once certain she was fast asleep again, he moved away, pounding the wall with both fists, leaning forward until his forehead touched the cool surface, cursing his powerlessness. The rest of the night continued in agony, Carter frequently waking in the grip of coughing that progressively worsened. By the time the sky outside finally began its shift to a pre-dawn hue, Jack was ready to drop to his knees and send a prayer of thanks to whatever god may be listening that Carter had made it through the night.
It was finally time to go.
He was reluctant to move her, but there was no other choice. Carrying her to the rendezvous was out of the question; it would draw the wrong kind of attention. Walking was the only option. Packing up their things, he carefully helped her climb to her feet, her face draining of what little color it had left.
The earlier spark of pride Jack had felt for her flourished into a fierce admiration of her courage as she slowly put one foot in front of the other, never once complaining as they abandoned their safe haven and ventured into the outside world.
The streets were relatively empty at this hour, many of the citizens engaged in morning prayer. The two officers took advantage of the barren roads and made their way as quickly as they could, Jack's heart beating faster as Carter's breathing grew steadily more ragged.
She was not looking good at all, he thought, his arm tightening around her waist as he glanced at her, his stomach churning as he saw her battling to remain conscious. Every step was a struggle, but they continued to press forward, and at last, the entrance to the park came into view, Jack murmuring, "Almost there, Carter. Almost there."
It was then that their luck decided to run out.
Throwing a look over his shoulder, Jack cursed under his breath as he saw a small group of Republican Guard round the corner behind them. One of the soldiers took notice of the unsteady pair hurrying toward the park, pointing them out to his comrades, their suspicion mounting as they began following and calling out.
Her breath hitching in her throat, Carter turned to see how closely behind the soldiers were trailing. One of the Iraqis pointed at the young woman in recognition, and in that brief instant, the square erupted in shouting and gunfire.
The two officers raced toward the park, throwing themselves behind the brick wall that marked the entrance, Carter crying out as she hit the ground hard. Jack pushed her down, shielding her as best he could as dust and debris clouded the air as bullets pierced the wall.
Jack's head whipped around as he heard the familiar whine of rotor blades in the distance, and hope soared through his heart as he spotted the rescue chopper, maybe a mile or two out from their position. All they needed was to hang on for just a few more minutes.
Grabbing his gun from beneath his thawb, Jack returned fire, using the wall for cover as he discharged several shots in succession. The soldiers scattered to find defensible positions of their own, gunfire now echoing on both sides of the street. Sooner than he would have liked, Jack ducked back against the wall, hands working fast to replace his empty clip with a fresh one, looking up to check on Carter.
He blinked in surprise as Carter suddenly retrieved the handgun he had given her the previous night and took up the spot he had just vacated, firing back at the Iraqis. Once again, she had dug into the reserves of her strength, and his eyes widened in wonder as he saw one of her shots hit its mark, bringing down a man in a shower of red.
"Nice!" he murmured beneath his breath, giving her an appreciative smile.
All of a sudden, additional firepower began raining down upon the Republic Guard troops as the helicopter finally touched down twenty yards away, the Special Forces team within the aircraft providing cover for the pair of officers. The thundering sound of the rotors drowned out the sound of the firefight and the air was thick with dust, but Jack still could make out the silhouette of one of the soldiers motioning for them to make a run for it.
Slipping an arm around Carter's waist, Jack tried to help her get her feet beneath her, but the lieutenant's strength had finally abandoned her, the shock and trauma of her injuries betraying her iron will. Making a snap decision, he tossed his handgun aside and slid his other arm beneath her knees, scooping her up and sprinting toward the chopper.
Bullets whizzed by his head, clipping the sides of the chopper, and small explosions of dirt and rocks erupted along his path as more bullets almost hit their intended target. Jack barely saw any of it. His vision had narrowed to the solider waving him on, his hand extended and reaching for Jack.
He had covered half the distance to the awaiting helicopter when pain abruptly exploded in his shoulder and back, and he staggered at the numb realization that he'd been shot. His arms threatened to give out as he wobbled, but he’d be damned if he was going to drop Carter. He was going to complete his mission even if it killed him.
Holding onto her for dear life, Jack mustered the determination to take five more steps, launching himself inside the belly of the chopper, landing on his injured back with Carter tucked against his chest. He bit back a massive amount of curses as he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, as hands helped steady him.
It wasn't until he heard the reassuring thump-thump-thump of the rotor blades overhead and felt the familiar sensation of flying that he finally forced his eyes open, his vision partially obscured by wisps of blonde hair against his face. Pushing her hair away from her forehead, Jack idly wondered when the hell Carter had lost her head cloth, when his hand suddenly stopped, fingers tangled in her hair.
Those blue eyes were staring at him intently.
A multitude of emotions passed between them in a heartbeat as they stared at each other, gratitude and relief and something else that Jack could not quite place. Rather than dwell on it, he relinquished her to the gentle hands that were pulling her away from him and onto a gurney, giving her a rare, gentle smile.
The corners of her mouth lifted in response and her eyes drifted shut as the medics around her began tending to her injuries, her breathing evening out in a peaceful, pain-free slumber as one of the doctors gave her a dose of morphine.
Knowing Carter was finally safe and on the way home, Jack closed his own eyes as a couple of medics checked out his own injuries, letting oblivion claim him.
***
Epilogue
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
Germany
One week later
Jack O'Neill hopped off the examination table and adjusted his sling over his BDUs, grateful his latest check-up had been a smooth one and extremely happy he didn't have to deal with much of the poking and prodding he despised. The doctor had reported that the gunshot wound he had taken in the back of his shoulder was healing nicely and he was cleared to fly back to the States.
Back home.
There was, however, one last thing he needed to do first.
Shuffling his way through the hallways of the hospital, he found himself pausing in front of another room, leaning forward slightly to peer in through the window of the door. Two people occupied the room, one an older man wearing BDUs and a couple of stars pinned on his shirt collar, the other a young woman, dressed in a hospital gown and robe, her left arm in a sling, resting in her bed and talking rather animatedly with the man.
Jack could only stare as he watched Samantha Carter, marveling at how vibrant and full of life she appeared. Gone were the deathly pale skin, the dirt and grime, and the pained expressions she had tried to hide from him. Instead, she once more resembled the woman in the tattered photograph he still carried in his pocket, beautiful with her deep blue eyes and dimpled smile.
Her entire face lit up at a comment from the man, whom Jack assumed must have been her General father, the sound of her giggles penetrating through the door. He reached up, fingers suspended mere centimeters from the glass pane of the window, as if he could reach through it to touch her face one more time.
Taking a deep breath, Jack stopped, his hand dropping and digging into his pocket, retrieving the photo he had been given just over a week ago. His eyes looked through the glass one last time at First Lieutenant Samantha Carter, alive and whole, who was grinning broadly at her father, then turned away to walk down the hall.
A doctor found the photograph on the counter of the nurses' station an hour later.
End.