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"Janet,
there’s been an accident."
God, how she hated those words. She couldn’t even begin to
count the number of times she’d answered the phone to hear
those same words in that somber and grim tone of voice. For Doctor
Janet Fraiser, CMO of Stargate Command based in Cheyenne Mountain
that could mean a number of things.
Of course, with those words, family always comes first to mind.
"Cassie? Is Cassie all right?" Janet asked, her heart
in her throat.
"She’s fine," General Hammond’s calm tones assured
her, but as soon as he continued, her spirits sank even further.
"It’s Colonel O’Neill."
"What happened?"
"It appears he was in an accident. One of the SFs was on his
way home and saw two trucks on the side of the road. He immediately
called for an ambulance. When he got closer, he recognized the Colonel’s
truck and called me immediately. That call came through a few minutes
ago. I’d like you to go to the scene and see what you can do."
Thankfully, her medical training kicked in immediately, enabling
her to push her feelings to the side—for the time being. It
was bad enough that everything always happened to SG1, but Jack
O’Neill always managed to attract trouble—on earth as
well as off world. "I’ll be ready in a few minutes. What
should I expect?"
"I’m not sure, Doctor. But from what he said, it doesn’t
look good. The fire rescue units were already on their way."
Hammond’s voice was grim.
"Have you notified his team?"
"That’s being done as we speak, although I’m not
sure how quickly they will be able to respond," Hammond said,
sighing deeply. "Doctor Jackson and Major Carter are currently
off world with SG6 and Teal’c is home visiting his family on
Chulak."
"I know, Sir. I’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes."
"There will be an airman waiting for your topside. The accident
scene isn’t far away, about halfway down the mountain."
Hammond paused long enough to make the pit of fear in Janet’s
stomach grow exponentially. "Take good care of him, Janet."
"Oh, I will, Sir. That I guarantee."
Colonel
Jack O’Neill was thinking about pizza, beer, and hockey—in
that order—when it happened.
He’d had a rather uneventful day at the SGC with just some
paperwork and a few mission reports to complete. With the rest of
the team attending to various projects and assignments for the duration
of the week, it had made for a boring—if productive—day.
Every now and then his scientists got the opportunity to join another
team and exercise the scientific portion of their brains a little
more than they normally did. As the frontline field unit of the
SGC, it was sometimes difficult for Carter and Daniel to actually
do anything scientific when they were off world. So, when there
came a time when he could send them on their merry scientific way,
Jack tried to do so.
Even though he dreaded each and every passing minute, he did it
anyway.
So when he’d finally finished his last file and poked his head
into General Hammond’s office to say goodnight, he was ready
to relax. He had a slight headache and his eyes were hurting a little—squinting
at the computer screen and the various bits of paper for hours on
end could do that to the people with the best of eyesight—let
alone a slightly worn Air Force Colonel.
He had a date tonight with his couch, a beer, pizza, and hockey.
There was a game on tonight that he’d been dying to watch for
the past few days and it was scheduled to begin at 2100 hours. He
had just enough time to stop, get food, and get himself home in
time to catch the opening minutes of the game.
Unfortunately, things didn’t go quite the way that he had planned.
It had been raining when he left the mountain, a pleasantly steady
drizzle, just enough to wet the roads and make them slick. With
his big truck and four-wheel drive, he had no problem negotiating
the damp mountain roads.
However, that was not the case for the other truck.
He had just turned up the radio—his favorite station was playing
some great classic rock tunes from the 1970s—when the blaring
lights of an oncoming vehicle blinded him.
He reacted immediately. His reflexes were perfect. He reacted quickly,
wrenching the wheel hard to the right in order to avoid the oncoming
car. Unfortunately, the road, the other vehicle, and his tires had
other things in mind.
Jack could feel his tires slipping and he tried to recover, tried
to make his truck go the way he needed it to go.
He knew that he was going off the road, into the ditch and the trees
that lined the winding mountain pass. There was no doubt in Jack’s
mind. This was not going to be pretty and his insurance company
was so not going to like this.
The vehicle he’d been trying to avoid, however, had also reacted
but instead of turning away, it slid further into O’Neill’s
lane, managing to hit O’Neill’s truck broadside, along
the driver’s side. The impact crushed the metal inward, shoving
the truck off its original trajectory, and spinning both of the
vehicles around before their momentum pushed them both into the
ditch—and into contact with one of the largest trees Jack had
ever seen.
Out of control, with his left arm already pinned in some of the
twisted metal, the last thought Jack had before his truck slammed
into the tree was about pizza, beer, and hockey.
He was so going to miss dinner and the game.
The
flashing of the emergency vehicles gave the scene of the accident
a nightmarish quality. Even before the Airforce sedan fully stopped
up at the scene, Janet jumped out, pulling her emergency kit with
her. Her senses were assaulted with the sounds and the smells of
the accident. The misty rain mingled with the pungent smell of burnt
rubber and the sooty smell of smoke. The symphony of the two trucks
horns crooning in the dark sent shivers down her spine.
There was work to be done.
Flashing her military badge at the police officer at the edge of
the scene, she quickly made her way to the vehicles, trying to find
the medic in charge. Two ambulances were stationed on the side of
the road, their rear doors side open, the stretchers already deployed
closer to the accident itself.
Janet made her way closer noticing that the mood of the rescuers
was not optimistic. Snagging the sleeve of a passing fire fighter,
she managed to get his attention. "What’s the status of
the victims?"
He sighed, turning back to look at the two trucks, their metals
twisted and intertwined together in a horrible sculpture of death
and destruction. Janet’s eyes had followed his glance, taking
in the scene in all its obscene glory. The occasional flash of the
crime scene photographer’s flashbulb illuminated the night,
small flashes of brilliance in the darkness. "Two DOA and one
very close."
"Which one?" Janet asked, her heart in her throat, fear
nearly overwhelming her. What would she tell Daniel, Sam, and Teal’c?
What would she tell Cassie? "Who is alive?"
"Well, if you call it that," he said, and pointed to the
truck that had been impaled by a tree, the truck’s front end
embracing the tree trunk in a death grip of metal. "He’s
in this vehicle here. We’re trying to cut him out now, but
we’re not sure if it’ll make any difference."
Relief nearly flooded over her when the man pointed to Colonel’s
O’Neill’s truck—or what was left of it.
"That’s all I needed to know," Janet said, patting
the man’s arm before moving on, her stride purposeful. As she
got closer, the smell of smoke, burnt wiring, gas, antifreeze, and
blood mingled together into a nearly overwhelming kaleidoscope of
odors.
There were several men working around the Colonel’s truck,
their moves precise, their faces grim and determined. She approached
the passenger side, the only place she’d be able to access
Jack’s prone form lying within. "I’m Doctor Fraiser,
Colonel O’Neill’s physician. What’s his status?"
she asked, her voice firm.
"It’s hard to tell, ma’am," one young man replied,
stepping back a little from the truck. "He hasn’t regained
consciousness since we arrived. It looks like he’s pinned—his
left arm and the lower part of his body. He had a cut on his temple
that’s bleeding, so we think that he may have hit his head
as well. Unlike the other two victims, he was wearing his seatbelt
and the airbags deployed, otherwise I’m sure he’d be dead
right now. It’s hard to maneuver in there, so we’ve only
managed to apply a bandage to try and stem the bleeding as best
we can. His airway is clear and there isn’t anything very obvious.
The only thing is that we’re not sure how long he’s been
here."
"Let me see what I can do," Janet said, hefting her bag
and eyeing the twisted remains of the truck. A hand on her arm held
her back.
"Ma’am, it’s not really safe. There’s a gas
leak somewhere and we’re working as quickly as we can to get
him out. It would be better for you—"
"Better for me maybe," Janet said, cutting him off. "But
not for the Colonel. Now, I’m getting in that truck with or
without your help. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Ma’am," he said, nodding slightly, understanding
bright in his eyes. "Since you’re so small, you might
be able to squeeze in through the passenger side window. The door
seems to be jammed. Let me give you a hand."
"Thank you," Janet replied, her voice thick with appreciation
and gratitude for not having to explain. Dropping her bag, the young
man helped her climb into the truck’s cab—a little awkward
in her skirt—and lifted her bag in after her. "Can you
shine a little more light in here?" She asked, looking around
in the cramped compartment, trying to figure out the best way to
sit. There was glass and metal and bits of wood and leaves everywhere.
A branch had gone through the windshield—grazing O’Neill’s
right shoulder and leaving a bleeding gash—which had been bandaged—and
extending into the rear set of seats. If it had been only a few
inches toward the left, she would be calling General Hammond to
organize a wake.
Jack was breathing—always a good sign. It sounded a little
shallow, but that was okay for now.
"Sir?" Janet asked, scooting closer, trying to work around
the tree limb, trying to touch his face. Even unconscious, Janet
always believed that touch was important. Sometimes, that was all
the comfort a patient could receive. "Jack? Can you hear me?"
Lightly touching the side of his face closest to her, Janet was
surprised at how cool he was—especially because it wasn’t
a cold night. He was going into shock and Janet would be surprised
if he wasn’t bleeding out somewhere. She needed to see what
was going on.
Leaving her hand on the side of Jack’s face, she turned her
head and yelled out the window of the truck once again, trying to
be heard over the blaring horns and the metal cutting saws that
were trying to free Jack’s body from the wreckage. "I
need more light in here. Can someone give me some light?"
"Hang on, Doctor," the same young man replied a moment
later, leaning into the cab. "We’re working on it. We’re
just trying to run a line back to the truck. Give us a minute."
"Just hurry," Janet said, turning back to her patient.
Her hand slid down from Jack’s cheek to rest lightly on this
neck, her fingers poised above the artery, feeling for a pulse.
It was there, but light and feathery.
As she was about ready to pull her fingers away, she felt him move
his head a little, a soft groan coming from deep in this throat.
"Jack?" she asked, moving closer, trying to lean over
the branch to look into his face. She didn’t want him to move
too much just in case he had a neck injury. "Jack, can you
hear me? If you can, I need you to stay as still as you can. We’re
trying to get you out of here."
He moaned again, this time louder, and his lips moved slightly.
He was coming around and he was trying to speak. Janet had to move
closer to try and hear what he was saying. Nearly lying across the
branch, she placed her ear next to his mouth, trying to catch his
words.
"Jack," she said, her hand squeezing his shoulder a little
as she balanced herself against the crushed and mangled console.
"Jack, can you hear me? I need you to repeat what you just
said."
Leaning close, his lips barely touching her ear, she strained to
listen for his words.
"Hurts."
Her heart nearly broke at his declaration. "Yes, Jack, I know
it hurts. We’re working as quickly as we can. Do you know what
happened?"
Janet thought that he might have dropped back into unconsciousness
because several beats passed before he answered. "Accident.
Truck…slammed…into me…then hit the tree."
He was coherent, but the answers were coming a little slower than
she would have liked. "Yes, Jack. You were in an accident.
We’re trying to get you out. You have to hold on."
"Janet…it hurts."
"I know, Jack. I know." She leaned back and found herself
looking directly into his dark brown eyes, filled with pain—and
fear. "Where does it hurt the most?"
His eyes closed and he was silent for a minute before he opened
his eyes again, locking his gaze with hers. "…Can’t
feel anything…from waist down…head hurts….arm hurts…both
arms…"
No feeling from the waist down was not a good sign. She turned her
head again, looking into the darkness beyond. "I need light
in here!" she yelled again.
"Coming right up, Doctor," came the reply and, sure enough,
a bright light clicked on, illuminating the front cab of Jack’s
truck and nearly blinding her in the process.
Things were better in the dark.
In the harsh light provided by the bare bulb, Jack was ghostly white
against the dark fabric of the seat. His left arm was pinned against
him and what had been the driver’s side door. There was no
blood but if Janet had to guess, the arm, and possibly the ribs
on his left side, was broken.
Broken ribs and arms would mend easily enough.
Aiming her glance downward, Janet realized just how extensively
Jack was pinned. The engine compartment had moved backward several
feet and most of the driver’s side console was sitting in Jack’s
lap, pressing him into the seat and possibly cutting off the circulation
to his extremities.
She bent down, trying to see around the branch. Reaching down with
her free hand and bracing herself against the front console, she
felt her way as best she could, looking for any obvious signs of
broken bones and trying to feel for a pulse along his legs. She
found one, very faint, but it was there.
"Doc…" Jack whispered and Janet pulled her head up
to see what he wanted.
"What is it, Jack?"
"…Getting a little…personal…aren’t you?"
If things weren’t so serious, she would have laughed. "No
more than usual, Jack." Even in pain, Jack O’Neill’s
main concern was always everyone else. His eyes were partially closed
against the bright light, but a gleam of humor was clearly evident.
"…Just checking…everything still there, Doc?"
"As far as I can tell, Jack. There might be some broken bones,
but I won’t know that for sure until we move you. Right now
it looks like you’re going to sit still for a little while."
"I can do that."
Janet leaned back, resting her hand against the side of his face.
"I’d rather not give you anything for the pain until I
can check you out fully. Are you okay or do you need something?"
"Fine, Doc. Just peachy."
"Okay," she said, looking out of the truck when something
caught her attention. "I’ll be right back, Jack."
"…’kay."
Scooting closer to the window, she waved the same young man to her
side. "How are we doing with getting him out of here? It looks
like he’s pinned from the waist down and I’m not sure
what kind of damage may have been done. I really need to get him
to a medical facility soon."
"I know, Doctor," he said, glancing to the two figures
on the other side of the vehicle, his eyes narrowing as he tried
to estimate their progress. "It’s tough going, but I think
we should have him out in a few minutes."
"Okay," Janet sighed. "Do you have a neck brace available?"
"Yes, I do."
"Can you grab it? I’d like to start prepping him to be
transferred. We’re going to have to move quickly once he’s
out. I’m a little worried since he claims he can’t feel
his legs."
"Sure, hang on," he said, stepping away toward the stretchers
sitting several feet from the vehicles. He returned a few beats
later, a plastic collar in hand. "Here you go. Do you want
to try and see if you can lay the seat back any? It might give you
a little more room. It’ll make it easier to get him out later."
Looking back at O’Neill, she made up her mind quickly. "Actually,
that would be great if we can do it. I’m not sure if the seat
will move or not."
"Let me see if I can get in the back seat so I can help you,"
he said, trying to wrench the rear door open. It took several tries,
but eventually it gave with a grating of metal against metal. He
climbed in quickly and offered a low whistle when he saw how far
the tree branch extended. "This could have been a lot worse."
Janet didn’t answer, but nodded her agreement as she carefully
placed the collar on Jack’s neck, immobilizing it. His eyes
were still open, staring straight ahead, but were a little out of
focus. They really need to hurry.
"Well, okay then," he said, rubbing his hands together
and taking a good look at the chair and the offending branch. "As
long as the seat doesn’t get hung up on the side wall we should
be okay. What do you think?"
"Well," Janet said, reaching over to feel along Jack’s
left arm. "I don’t think his arm is tied to the truck,
so yes, we should be okay."
"Okay," he said, moving around in the back seat. "I
think I can reach the seat controls from here. How do you want to
do this?"
"Let’s lean him back a little at a time," Janet said,
looking at Jack critically. He didn’t look good and she didn’t
like his color.
"All right," the medic said, his voice muffled against
the back of the driver’s seat. "Here we go. Tell me when
to stop."
"Okay," Janet said, nodding and placing a hand against
Jack’s cheek. She leaned in closer to him to make sure he understood
what was going on. "Jack, we’re going to lean you back
a little to prep you to get you out of here. Tell me if anything
changes, okay?"
Jack blinked once. "…’kay."
Janet looked up, eyeing the medic as he lowered the seat back millimeter
by millimeter. So far so good, she thought. Jack’s left arm
was slowly becoming free and Janet leaned further over the branch
to help guide the limb free.
"Aghhhhh!" Jack cried.
"What Jack?" Janet asked, her eyes wide. The medic had
also stopped moving the seat back. They’d gotten it down a
few inches, allowing Jack to recline a little.
"….Arm….oh God…that hurts."
"Jack, stay still for a minute. I’m going to try to put
a temporary splint on it to keep it from moving again. Okay?"
Jack blinked once, his teeth fastened securely on his bottom lip.
"Can you—" Janet started to say, but was cut off.
"I’m on it," the medic said already halfway out of
the truck. "I’m going to grab some saline as well. He’s
going to need it."
Janet nodded quickly, her eyes fixed intently on the man before
her whose brown eyes were starting to tear.
"Hold on, Jack," Janet said, her voice nearly breaking.
This was the worst part of the job—being helpless while someone
was in pain. "We’re working as fast as we can."
"…I know, Janet…I know…you wouldn’t think…that
this would…hurt so much…"Jack closed his eyes. Janet’s
hand immediately slid to his neck, checking for a pulse. After a
frantic few seconds she found it. He’d worried her for a minute.
"Here," the medic said, hopping carefully back into the
rear of the cab and handing Janet an arm splint.
"Okay, Jack, this is going to hurt. Are you ready?" Janet
asked, trying to position herself so she’d be able to splint
the arm in place quickly.
"Ready."
She almost didn’t hear Jack’s whispered reply. Five minutes
later the arm was splinted amid a round of Jack’s more creative
curses. He’d gone limp halfway through, his eyes rolling back
in his head. After a quick check of his pulse, she finished the
splint and then inserted the IV line into the back of his right
hand, hooking the saline bag to the hook on the grip handle above
the rear window. She also pulled an ampoule of morphine from her
bag and quickly inserted a dosage into the IV stream. She wasn’t
sure if it was the best thing to do, but she couldn’t sit here
with him in agony. At least it would help Jack manage the pain somewhat.
"Okay, let’s put the seat down the rest of the way. We’re
probably going to have to take him out through the tailgate,"
Janet said, wiping the sweat off of her brow as she settled back
down in the debris-covered seat.
"Maybe," the medic said. He narrowed his eyes a little
as he gazed out of the shattered front window. "We’re
probably going to have to move out of here soon, Doctor. They’re
about ready to lift the roof off."
Janet followed his gaze as the two men moved around to the front
of the truck, one on each side. She’d been able to ignore what
they’d been doing, her attention focused intently on Jack,
not realizing what they were planning.
"Why are they taking the roof off?"
"I think they’re going to try and slid him out from under
the console once they get something to lever it up," he said,
his eyes still fixed on the figured outside. "Okay, they’re
ready. We’ve got to get out of here."
"But—"
"Doctor, now. You’re just making this take longer if you
argue."
Janet sighed and placed a hand on Jack’s cheek. "I’ll
be right back, Jack. We’re going to get you out."
The medic helped her climb out of the truck and they stepped back
several paces as the saws once more got back to work, cutting through
the metal with ease.
"I’m Keith, by the way," the medic said, offering
a hand.
"Janet Fraiser," she answered automatically as she grasped
his hand warmly. Her attention, though, was focused on the truck
before her.
"You care a lot about him, don’t you?" Keith said,
his voice quiet, barely reaching her across the distance.
Janet glanced over at him quickly, trying to gauge his reason for
asking. "We’re friends…good friends."
"I can tell," Keith said with a smile. "It shows
in the way you are with him. I wish more doctors were like you,
taking such an interest in their patients."
"Unfortunately, in the Colonel’s line of work, he ends
up visiting my infirmary more than he should," Janet said,
turning back to the scene before her. They had called a number of
other volunteers together because they were about ready to raise
the roof.
"Once they get the roof off it should go quickly," Keith
said, answering Janet’s next question.
"I know," Janet said. "It’s just the waiting…"
Keith smiled. "I know. Waiting sucks."
Jack’s
world was a mass of pain—all encompassing pain.
It radiated down from his neck into his left arm and into his chest.
What worried him the most, though, was that he didn’t feel
anything below his waist.
It was strange, almost surreal, really. A portion of his mind realized
that Janet must have given him some of her happy juice because it
wasn’t as bad as it had been before. But, he also could have
sworn he was getting wet.
Opening his eyes, he looked up into the cloudy night sky. Blinking
as small drops of rain hit his face and his eyes, he vaguely wondered
what happened to the roof of his truck. Normally, when it rained
and he was in his truck, he didn’t get wet. This time, though,
was different.
"Jack?"
That sounded like Doc Fraiser.
He blinked again, trying to turn his head to the sound oh her voice.
"Jack, no," she said as her hand lightly touched his cheek
and her face came into view. "Don’t try and move, Jack.
We’re going to get you out of here. Just lie still and let
us work, okay?"
"Sure, Janet," he said, his voice strangely quiet and
breathy. That was not the sound he normally made, was it?
How many minutes passed, he didn’t know, when Janet’s
face returned to hover in his line of sight. "Colonel…Jack,
we’re about ready to lift the console off of your legs and
we’re going to roll you right onto a backboard, okay? How are
you doing?"
"Peachy. Just peachy."
"Okay," Janet said, turning away to look at something
beyond his view, before glancing back. "This might hurt, Jack."
"'kay."
A horrific screeching and then there were hands all over him, sliding
a board beneath him and securing him down. Been here, done this
before. A few seconds later and he felt as if he was floating on
air as the trees and clouds moved quickly away to be replaced by
other tree branches.
He was moving and he thought he heard Janet’s voice. "I’m
going to need a normal saline IV with 50 mEq/L of sodium bicarb
set up immediately. We’ll be there in a few minutes."
Janet’s short hair was soaked through to her scalp when she
finally appeared once again a few seconds later. "Jack, we’re
going to take you to the infirmary. How are you doing? Any pain
in your legs?"
"Nothing, Doc," Jack answered after a brief thought. "Should
I…" he started, his voice trailing off.
"It’s okay, Jack," Janet said, vanishing from his
sight as the ceiling of the ambulance came into view. She appeared
a few seconds later at his side.
A few minutes or seconds had passed—Jack wasn’t sure which—when
he spoke again. "Doc, I’m not feeling so good."
"Jack, what’s wrong?" Janet’s voice sounded
worried.
"Kind of nauseous," Jack said, trying to push the feeling
to the back of his mind. Blackness, though, was closing in.
"Jack? Jack, can you hear me?" Janet’s voice got
fainter and fainter as if she was speaking from farther and farther
away until finally he didn’t hear it anymore.
Epilogue
Janet hated crush injuries.
If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. They’d managed
to stabilize the Colonel shortly after he passed out in the ambulance.
With a course of continued aggressive fluid resuscitation and constant
monitoring, Jack managed to avoid acute renal failure.
But of course, the accident had done quite a bit of damage.
Even though the console had all but landed in his lap, there wasn’t
any damage to his pelvis. They managed to discover in the ambulance
that he had been bleeding out slightly on his right leg where a
piece of metal had cut it open. Both of Jack’s legs were broken,
as was his left arm. The ribs were bruised, not broken, for which
Janet was grateful.
Jack also had a minor concussion from striking his head on the steering
wheel. Apparently, when the truck broadsided the Colonel’s
truck the airbag had deployed as it was designed, but it had deflated
by the time the truck had struck the tree.
Janet had chosen to keep him sedated over the past week to make
sure he started healing properly.
SG1 had returned as quickly as possible, but it had taken two days
for Sam and Daniel to return because the site was a day’s hike
from the gate and for some reason the radio signals were not working
correctly. Even though Jack was unconscious, his team stayed at
his side, offering what comfort they could.
Janet paused by the door to the private room, glancing in, fully
expecting someone to be sitting by Jack’s bedside. She was
surprised to find him alone.
Sighing, she crossed her hands over her chest and let her emotions
finally come to the surface as she slumped against the doorframe.
They’d almost lost him again—this time because he was
in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The two kids in the other truck had been drunk and decided it would
be fun to race down the mountain—but they never even made it
up halfway before they encountered the Colonel’s truck.
She let her gaze linger on his still frame. Both legs were elevated
slightly and encased in thick plaster casts. Cassie had already
starting drawing on them with various markers. The Colonel would
not be a happy camper when we woke up and saw the pictures, but
he wouldn’t complain—especially when he found out who
had done the majority of the work. Granted, Sam and Daniel had also
added their own pictures and comments, but this had been Cassie’s
project, her gift to her favorite uncle.
The casts would come off soon enough and then he’d have to
go through physical therapy to regain the strength in his legs and
learn how to walk again. There was a hard road still ahead of him,
but she knew he was a fighter. He always had been and would always
continue to be.
She stepped closer, her hand lightly resting on his arm as she watched
the rise and fall of his chest.
"Doc?"
Janet nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard that quiet word.
"Colonel? Jack?"
"Hey, Doc," Jack said, smiling weakly, his brown eyes
a little glassy, but firmly fixed on her face.
"Well, welcome back sleeping beauty. How are you doing?"
Janet asked, her hand automatically sliding down to his wrist to
check his pulse.
He thought for a minute before answering. "Okay. Nothing hurts
too badly."
"I should hope not," Janet said, smiling tiredly. "I
wouldn’t be doing my job if you were hurting. Do you remember
what happened?"
"Yeah…the accident. My truck felt a need to hug a tree
and I was pinned. Oh, God, my insurance company is not going to
be happy about this claim," Jack said, closing his eyes as
he shook his head slightly from side to side.
"You can worry about that later. Right now, I need you to rest
and heal," Janet said, placing the call button beneath his
right hand and patting his hand lightly before stepping away. "Now,
get some rest. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed."
"Janet?" His quiet call stopped her in her tracks, turning
her around immediately. He was looking at her intently, a serious
expression on his face. He continued as soon as she caught his gaze.
"Thank you for coming and for staying with me during this whole
thing. It really means a lot to me."
"Don’t mention it, Colonel," Janet said, quickly
waving off his thanks.
His words were as strong as he could manage, but were barely louder
than a whisper. "Janet, I really mean it. If you weren’t
there, I’m not sure what might have happened to me." Jack’s
eyes were quickly closing, but he was fighting it every step of
the way. "Thank you for being there."
Janet stepped close, her hand clasping Jack’s in a warm embrace.
"Go to sleep, Jack. You’re team will be here in the morning."
Janet stayed with him as his eyes slowly closed and he settled into
a deep healing sleep. He’d be stronger in the morning and he’d
enjoy the company of his team and sooner or later he’d start
torturing her nurses.
Unforeseen occurrences befell one and all, of this Janet was certain.
She just wished it didn’t always have to happen to a certain
Air Force Colonel.
Pushing his hair back from his forehead with a light touch, Janet
lowered the lights next to the bed and quietly walked from the room.
She paused at the door and turned around to glance one last time
at the slumbering figure.
Her parting words, were barely audible, but had to be said.
"Good night, Jack. Sleep tight and pleasant dreams."
|
Unforeseen
Occurrences