Shippy Novel Review: Do No Harm

I strongly encourage you when you like the shippy bits to go out and buy the book!

'She' is always Sam and 'he' is always Jack unless stated otherwise by me.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp, Double Secret Productions and Showtime.

Novel Do No Harm written by Karen Miller

*** "Yes, sir," she said. "Colonel-"
He nodded. "Have fun, Carter. Don't let the kids get into any trouble. And if Daniel's struck with the sudden urge to explore any mysterious caves or unexpected ruins I am ordering you to sit on him until it passes. Capisce?"

"Capisco," she said, grinning. "Have fun with your reports."

*** O'Neill waved the general (Hammond) down the stairs into the living room. God, he looks beat. "Yes, sir," he said, heading for the kitchen. "You'd better. I always order too much. Carter's renamed my fridge the The O'Neill Laboratory. She says I should apply for funding."

*** O'Neill sat back. "Soil samples? Carter's after soil samples now? Oy vez mamma mia."

"And plant samples," said Hammond, grinning. "Let's not forget the plants."

He pulled a face. "She talks to them, you know. She talks to plants. Shouldn't that, I don't know, disqualify her from romping in alien pastures picking flowers?"

"Now, now," said Hammond reprovingly. "That's just sour grapes because the last plant samples she gathered - over your vigorous complaints, if memory serves - look like they're turning the world of pharmacology on its head."

"Oh. Yes. That," he said, and rolled his eyes. "Well if you're going to count that as an excuse for her to run around the galaxy impersonating Maria von Trapp..."

Laughing, Hammond stood.

*** "Daniel, I don't want to hear it!" Sam Carter, unusually short-tempered. Almost, dare he (Hammond) say it, channeling Jack O'Neill.

"Oh, stop trying to be Jack!" Doctor Jackson, of the same opinion.

*** When the rest of SG-1 joined them (O'Neill and Hammond) in the briefing room he broke the news. As usual it was as good as impossible to gauge what Teal'c was thinking. Doctor Jackson stared at the table, leaning on his folded arms, eyebrows low in a frown. Sam flicked a single glance at Jack then pokered up just like he remembered Jacob doing in the past. She was her father's daughter, all right.

*** "Yes, sir," said Jack, and shoved his chair back. "Welcome home, kids," he added to his team. "Play nicely while I'm with the principal. No picking on Carter, Daniel, just because she burst your bubble. I mean, it's not like you're not used to having your bubble burst, right?"

*** Carter turned. "Colonel Dixon, I'll be prepping the UAV for launch in a few hours. If you're still awake you should come to the gate room and watch. It's really kind of cool. Colonel O'Neill never gets tired of it, do you, sir?"

*** She chewed the edge of one fingernail. "I should recheck the telemetry. Maybe I missed something in the MALP or UAV readouts. I could've made a mistake in the-"

"Oh, please," said O'Neill, who was disconcertingly capable of following at least three different conversations at the same time. "How likely is that?"

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the sentiment. But-"

Sam wrenched the top off of a bottle of beer and chugged down a fortifying mouthful. "Then count me out. If that's what you guys feel like doing, fine, but not me. In case the fact I'm in civvies has you confused, Dixon is still a superior officer and-"

"He's not mine," said the colonel. "Or Daniel's. Or Teal'c's."

She glared at him. "But he's mine," she said sharply. "Sir. As you damn well know."

O'Neill sat back, considering her. "Relax, Sam. We're off duty. We're on private property. We're just friends kicking back over takeout and beer, shooting the breeze. Where's the harm?"

She met him look for look. "The harm, Jack, is that I don't feel comfortable.""

The use of his first name pinged him, she could tell, even though his expression didn't alter. "Well, neither do I, Carter. "

*** "I (Dixon) don't doubt him, I'm just wondering whether-"

"Yeah, Dixon, you are doubting him," interrupted O'Neill. "And more importantly you're starting to piss me off, so-"

"Sirs," said Carter. "Teal'c. Don't you think this can wait?"

Silence, as they stared at her. Then O'Neill grunted again. Not angry, but accepting. Diverted, Dixon considered him. Took in the way O'Neill dropped his hackles and held his tongue. So the major can pull rank on the colonel? That's a new one. I'll have to remember that...

*** She sighed sharply. "I don't know. I don't know if there's anything we can do. You know what the colonel's like. But if you think there's a moment when you (Teal'c) can talk to him, get him to lower his guard for once, maybe-"

"I have already attempted to do so," he said, after a moment. "I was unsuccessful."

"Oh," she said. "Right." Their eyes met in perfect understanding.

"Perhaps you could speak with him yourself."

"Yeah, right," she retorted. "Because he's always confiding in me."

Beneath the dark humor, a sting of pain. Did she know what she betrayed of her heart at such moments? He (Teal'c) thought she did not. He thought perhaps she was yet to fully understand herself where O'Neill was concerned. Just as O'Neill did not understand his feelings for her. I cannot help but fear, a little, what will happen when understanding does at last come to them.

*** "O'Neill looked over to Daniel Jackson, who had taken off his pack and was wrestling with it as though it were a mortal enemy. "Oh, please," O'Neill muttered. "Herding cats would be easier, I swear. Daniel! This isn't your first barbeque! Time to roll!"

Lotar looked startled. "Roll? No, we must walk to the village. Very carefully, for the path is narrow and steep."

"It's all right, Lotar," said Major Carter, not quite hiding her amusement. "It was a figure of speech. Colonel O'Neill means it's time to leave."

*** "I don't," said Sam. "But this is her world, not mine. I don't get to say what's right for her. And she took a big risk for us. Sir."

Daniel watched Jack shake his head at her.

"You realize that's the fourth pair of dog-tags you've lost in the last sixteen months? Uncle Sam's going to start sending you invoices."

Sam shrugged. "I can live with that, Colonel."

They exchanged complicated looks, then Jack visibly shifted mental gears.

*** The crowd parted for them, whispering and pointing at Sam, who was trying to pretend the fuss about her hair wasn't getting on her nerves.

"Never mind, Carter," said Jack with a sidelong smile as they impersonated a gaggle of baby ducklings following an unlikely mother duck. "Before our next mission you can do a full-on Sinead O'Conner," he added, raising his voice. "That'll fix the style police's little red wagon."

"If you'd only thought to bring a pair of clippers with you, sir, I'd do it right now," she replied.

Jack snorted. "Shame on me for my lack of forsight."

*** Carter muttered under her breath, then marched over to join him. Immediately she was mobbed by the young girls and women in the crowd, who pointed and giggled and squaled at each other. With a long-suffering glance back at O'Neill she pulled off her cap, shoved it into her pocket and surrendered to the inevitable.

"Damn," said O'Neill, sounding affectionately amused. "Wish I'd let Daniel bring his camera, now."

Dixon grinned. "She's a hit, all right."

*** "You're in charge, Carter," he said briskly, loudly enough for Colonel Dixon to hear. "Happy hunting. Bring me back some nice souvenirs. Anything naquadah-shaped would be just fine."

She had to smile, though the burden of his expectation was heavy. "I'll try, sir."

"All things being equal I'll be home well before sunset."

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Be careful."

He tugged his cap more firmly on his head. "You too. See ya."

Standing on the path outside the retreat, she watched him as he moved swiftly and silently through the still-sleeping village. Dixon came up behind her and whistled softly. "What do you want to bet he could retrace his way back to the gate with his eyes shut?"

"I know he could," she replied, as the colonel was lost from sight. "It's one of his things."

*** (Sam's injured and Jack just walks up to the village seeing it)

"What the hell?" he demanded, shouldering his way between the villagers clustered around his damaged major. "Carter?" She was seated on a carved wooden stool, her bruised and bloodied face pinched with pain. There was more blood on both of her arms, on her ripped black tee-shirt and her fatigues, which were torn in at least four places. Dixon was swiping an iodine pad over the viciously abraded skin of her right arm, making her wince and suck wind.

"Carter!" O'Neill said again. "What happened?"

She looked up, and beneath the blood and grime her pale cheeks tinted pink. "Oh. Sir. Hi." Awkwardly she shrugged. "I had an accident."

"Yeah, I can see that," he retorted, ignoring the whispering Adjoans. "I just don't believe it. I leave you alone for five damned minutes and you're trying to kill yourself? What happened?"

The edgy snap of his voice had the gathered Adjoans scuttling backwards. Daniel pulled away from this whirring digicam. "Easy, Jack. Sam's okay, it's worse than it looks, and you're upsetting our new friends."

*** "Yeah. Okay. Fine." He took another deep breath. Damn. Blood and Carter were never a good combination. Of course blood and any of his team were never a good combination, but Carter... "So obviously, Major, you fell down," he continued, forcibly derailing that particular train of thought.

*** Behind him the retreat's door creaked as someone else came out. "Hey, Carter."

He heard her sharp exhalation. "How come you always know when it's me?"

"Magic," he replied, allowing himself a tiny smile, and glanced at her as she came to stand beside him on the pathway. The smile faded. "Well, hello. You look like crap."

She gave him a look. "Morning, Colonel Pot. Major Kettle reporting for duty."

"Carter-"

"Sir, I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yes." But obviously she wasn't. Dark circles marred the skin below her eyes, which were glazed in a way he didn't like one bit. Her cheeks were barely touched with color, and there was a drawn look about her that suggested she was suffering a constant undercurrent of pain.



She smiled. "Yes, sir."

Marginally satisfied, he frowned at the scenery. "Okay. Is it just me or is Mennufer more floral?"

She considered the view. "No, sir, it's not you. It seems a lot of flowers have bloomed overnight. But that's spring for you. One minute everything's dead and bare and the next it's, like, where the hell did all these leaves and flowers come from? Haven't you ever noticed that?"

He gave her a sidelong look. "Hello, have we met?"

She grinned. "Sorry."

*** On the floor beside him, Carter stirred. Groaned. Made a feeble attempt to shove aside the sleeping bag from her face. " Carter. Welcome back."

She groaned again, squinting up at him. "Oh. Sir. You look terrible."

He managed a smile. "Yeah, well, I don't think you'd win Miss Air Force USA right now."

Slowly, she touched her cheeks. "No blistering. That's something." Then she winced. "Sorry. God. My head's pounding. What's wrong with me?"

"Spring fever," he said. "Just lie still, Carter. I'll get you a painkiller."

Muscles aching, creaky, feeling as old as he'd become on Kynthea's planet, he fetched Tylenol and a canteen for Carter. Helped her sit up. Helped her swallow the pills.



"You'll be fine," he said automatically.

Her lips quirked. "Is that an order?"

Crap, she was trying to joke with him. She was lying there so sick, whiter than a ghost, and she was trying to joke with him. Not even the glowing lamplight could wash a semblance of health into her face. Her bloodshot eyes looked strangely sunken and her pallid cheeks had taken on a waxy sheen. And her arms...her arms...something - not blood, but something wet and glistering - had seeped through the gauze bandages on her bruised and scraped arms.

Carter saw him staring and looked down. "Holy crap. What's that?"

"I don't know," he said, his heart banging his ribs. "Sit tight, I'll be right back."

*** Watching him (Dixon), resentfully grateful, O'Neill shrugged. "We'll manage. You and Teal'c can carry Carter on a stretcher. If Lotar survives the night, Daniel and Bhuiku can carry her on another one. I'll walk. It's all good."

Dixon looked up. "Goddammit, you're cold."

"Actually, I'm hot. Got a fever, remember?"

"That's not what I meant. You-"

"Thanks for helping Carter," he said. "I'm going to take a nap."

Now Dixon's face was baffled. "I don't get you, O'Neill. I just - I don't get you."

*** "Carter, go to sleep. Let somebody else worry about the damned naquadah."

She sighed. "Yes, sir."

Silence. Abruptly he was reminded of Antarctica, and fear. "Sam..."

"Yeah?"

"We're getting out of this."

"Is that a promise, sir?"

"Yeah."

Another sigh. "Okay."

*** Jack leaned across to Sam and gently shook her shoulder. "Hey, Carter."

She rolled over groggily. "Sir."

"Get yourself together. We'll be leaving soon.-"

*** "Jack," he (Daniel) said, stopping just short of touching distance. "Look..." He folded his arms. "I know you're worried, I know you want to get Sam to Fraiser for treatment, but...the villagers needed more time."

That earned him a glare. "A lot of people need treatment, Daniel."

Ah. Yes. Okay, backing away from that one...

*** He (Dixon) scrubbed his fingers through his filthy, sweat-damp hair. "I looked in on Carter a few minutes ago. No change."

There was just enough drifting illumination from the powerful arc lights to reveal O'Neill's face. Beneath the blood-black blisters and the silvery stubble, the dregs of color left to him had drained away completely. He looked almost...fragile.

"She'll make it," said O'Neill. "If she can survive a snake in her head she can survive anything."

*** Then he (Dixon) crossed to Carter, to see how she was. He'd thought she belonged in one of the medical tents, but O'Neill wouldn't hear of it. "She stays with us. We look after our own."

*** (Dixon talks to Janet and Hammond through radio transmission)

"And she's still short of breath? Still running a fever?"
"Yeah. I'm keeping her temperature down with cool wet cloths and feeding her Tylenol when she's awake enough to swallow, but it keeps creeping up. O'Neill's sitting with her at the moment, talking to her. I think he's getting through, but-"

*** (Jack's fallen asleep on the stool next to Sam's camp bed when he has a nightmare and falls off the stool but Sam doesn't wake although Dixon was watching him the whole time and let him sleep/stay with her.)

Dixon was watching him, and Dixon already knew too much. He looked at Carter, stripped out of her heavy field uniform and redressed in lighter, kinder surgical scrubs. Reached out to her, and let the tips of his fingers rest against her bare wrist. Beneath his cold touch he could feel her sluggish pulse. Her sunken eyes remained closed, but she was still breathing. She was still with him. He hadn't lost her, yet, or let her down.

*** He looked at Carter, so still and distant on the camp bed beside him. It seemed her flesh was melting from her bones. Beneath the disfiguring red rash her skin was translucent. She hadn't opened her eyes for him in quite some time. Oh God. Please God. Don't let her be dying.

Resting his hot and hurting gaze on her he said, "I'm glad you're here, Dixon. Things are easier, because you're here."

*** It was galling, having to lie flat on his back and reply. But the effort of sitting up, even onto his elbows, was too much. He was drained again, all his energy poured into sitting over Carter.

*** "Oh, Jack," said Daniel, half-smiling, half-frowning, and removed his hand. "You are so far from fine. How's Sam?"

He rolled his head on his miserly pillow, so he could see her sleeping face. "Well, she's not dead."

"Jack."

Shrugging irritably, he pulled a face. "What? What do you want from me?"

Daniel heaved a sigh. "Nothing.-"

*** "It might be something." Daniel chewed his lip. "I really hope it's something, Janet. Things are pretty bad."

As if she needed him to tell him that. In silence they continued to SG-1's tent.

Jack was ill-advisedly out of bed, sitting on a camp stool beside Sam. He let go of her flaccid hand when he saw they had visitors and pushed unsteadily to his feet.

*** (Janet's sitting next to Jack's camp bed)

His head rolled on the pillow, his stark gaze shifting. "Sam's bad."

There was no point lying. "Yeah. She is."

*** "How bad are you feeling? Honestly?"

Instead of answering, O'Neill looked across at Carter, who hadn't so much as twitched a finger at their raised voices. Then he stared at the crusted blisters on the back of his hands. Finally, he looked up. "I'm not dying."

*** "I know," she (Janet) said. "You're sick. But you're not getting worse." She bit her lower lip. Time to give him the bad news. "Jack, I'm moving Sam into the women's ICU tent."

He stared at her, unblinking, then shifted his gaze to Sam, so still, so silent, so absent. "Is that really necessary?"

He wasn't questioning her medical judgment, she knew that. He was just afraid. Which makes two of us. This is the sickest Sam's been in her whole life. If I can't save her... "She needs closer monitoring," she said. "She needs oxygen and-"

"Oxygen?"

"As a precaution. Jack, she needs a catheter. She needs her privacy."

"Yeah," he said, after a moment. "Yeah. Okay."

"I'll have Teal'c and Colonel Dixon come get her. Stay put," she said, sternly. "I'll be back in a minute."

But when she returned, Teal'c and Dixon in tow, of course he was off his camp bed and on the stool beside Sam, holding her hand and talking to her.

"-out of this, Carter. We didn't survive Antarctica, and Apophis's invasion, and you getting Goa'ulded, and - and that damned black hole and-" He stopped. "We didn't survive all that," he continued after a moment, his voice unsteady, "and the rest of it, for you to get taken down by some damned snakehead virus. Okay?"

Sam wasn't comatose. Not yet. Her eyes were open, and she was looking at Jack. "Okay." She sounded frail. Insubstantial. "Whatever you say, sir."



Jack let go of Sam's hand and retreated to his own camp bed. Sat down again and started picking at the scabs on his wrist, pretending he wasn't terrified and furious and lost.



"How's it going with Teal'c?" he said. He had himself in hand. If she (Janet) didn't know him so well she'd think he was indifferent to Sam's plight.

*** Blisters cleared up, scabs scrubbed off. All his aches and pains a memory. Whatever was in that Tok'ra vaccine, it was pretty cool. Damn. And now we owe them.

Except he wasn't sorry, not really. Not with Carter sitting there grinning at him, brimful of life.

*** "You going home, sir?" said Carter.

He nodded. "Oh, yes. You?"

"Yeah..." she said slowly. "Only first I thought I might-"

"What?" he prompted.

Her cheeks were pink. "You'll think I'm an idiot."

"Oh, I already think that," he said, so innocent.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," she said dryly. "I was going to say, I thought I might go up top for a while."

He stared. "Up top? Of the mountain?"

"Yes, sir. As top as we can get, anyway."

"Well...okay. Why?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

(Sam, Jack and Teal'c go up the mountain and called it a night when they saw 3 shooting stars :) )

* Hammond was frowning. "That would be between me and the President, Colonel."

"But-"

The tips of Carter's fingers touched O'Neill's arm. "Of course, General," she said, as he subsided.

*shippy sigh*