DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, Showtime, Gekko etc. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A very special thank you to Debbie for taking on the job of beta for this fic as well as the 22 others and especially for agreeing to write her specialty, Birds of Prey, as part of this 24 fandom series. Thanks, Deb, I truly do appreciate it.
CHALLENGE: Written for the first International Day of Femslash.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Day from Hell
Totally oblivious to her surroundings, the blonde Major walked down the hallway, completely engrossed in the file she held in her hand. The calculations she'd worked on two nights before had been relatively useless. She'd need to go back to square one, although, the failed calculations would still be helpful when she re-ran the new numbers. Cursing under her breath, Samantha Carter never saw the airman, moving quickly around the corner, or the heavy metal crate he carried. She walked right into the man, the fleshy part above her left eye making contact with the edge of the crate. Blood gushed from the wound and covered the figures Sam needed to re-evaluate her program.
"I'm so sorry, Major," said the young man, noting the insignia on her uniform, before looking up to see which officer he'd run over. He moved in closer and then took a quick step back when Sam lifted her hand from her eye, inwardly proud of himself for not grimacing at sight of the jagged cut. "Gee, that looks kind of bad."
Sam didn't care about the cut; she was too focused on the numbers that had become practically indistinguishable. She thrust the papers at the airman. "Here, see if you can do something about getting the blood off these papers. I need to be able to decipher the information." Attempting to staunch the flow of blood with her hand, she finally turned her full attention to her injury as she started down the corridor, muttering under her breath, "Janet's going to kill me."
By the time she'd reached the infirmary, Sam looked as if she'd gone 15 rounds with Mike Tyson of the pre-biting years. Her olive colored military t-shirt was completely red on the left side, giving her the appearance that she'd sustained a chest or shoulder injury. Two nurses spotted her right away and rushed forward, while a third yelled out to the CMO.
"Doctor Frasier! Major Carter's been hurt!" A young redhead grabbed a gurney and raced toward the injured officer. Sam cringed. She was going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of the week for scaring Janet. Easing onto the gurney, she tried to calm the frantic nurses.
"It's just a little head wound, nothing serious." With her one good eye, she looked at the three nervous women. It was obvious they hadn't believed her.
"Johnson, we need two liters of O-negative, STAT."
Once again, Sam tried to explain it was merely a simple cut that was the source of all the blood, but she stopped when a blonde nurse grabbed a pair of scissors and cut her shirt right down the middle before she could stop her. The fact that the woman had cut through her new bra hadn't been lost on Sam, especially when her breasts were exposed to the cool temperature.
"Hey!" She attempted to sit up but was pushed forcefully down by the take charge doctor who'd appeared out of nowhere.
"What happened?" Janet had already slipped on a pair of surgical gloves and was frantically searching for Sam's injury. She frowned when all she encountered was smooth skin and firm breasts, normally something that made her smile. "Where are you hurt, Sam?"
Reaching for the ends of her shirt, Sam struggled to tie them together, desperately trying to cover her stomach and breasts, especially the two peaks that had come to attention with Janet's explorations.
"It's just a cut!" Sam wrestled with the nurse who was untying the ends she'd worked so hard to secure. "On my eye!" She glared at the nurse.
Janet gently palpated the area above Sam's left eye, drawing a complaint from her lover.
"Monroe, get Major Carter a fresh shirt and find Johnson and cancel the O-negative. Anderson, I need 4-0 silk ready for me in exam two." Janet barked out her orders, and the two nurses nodded and scurried away.
Janet leaned closer to her lover. "Don't ever come in here bleeding like this again."
"But . . ." Sam started to explain what had happened but stopped abruptly, needing her concentration to stay on the gurney. She gripped her shirt together with one hand and the side of the gurney with the other as Janet had already begun to wheel her to the exam room. Falling off would be a very bad idea.
Sam had barely been transferred to the bed in exam room two when the lightheadedness started, adding yet another item to her growing list of symptoms. Her slight headache from staying up all night two days before had grown to one of epic proportions, she'd bumped her knee on the hospital bed when she'd insisted she didn't need any help climbing off the gurney, and her fingers were cramping from clasping the front of her shirt together so tightly. Turning toward Janet, she was just in time to see a rather large needle headed her way.
"Whoa what's with the harpoon?" Sam shied away, edging as far away from her lover as possible, the bedside table stopping her progress. She eased her elbow to the edge of the table, readying to climb on top of it if necessary.
"Relax, Sam; I'm just going to deaden the area before I apply the stitches."
"With that? I don't think so."
"Yes, I am." Janet held the syringe in full view of her patient and gave the plunger a slight push. "I'm fairly certain you'd hate me sewing up your skin without the aid of a deadening agent." Janet lifted an even larger curved needle and smiled. Sam turned white as the sheet she lay on and promptly passed out.
"Um, Doctor Frasier, you're not planning to use that on Major Carter, are you?" A nervous Anderson laid out the 4-0 silk Janet had requested and eyed the too large hypodermic needle and the way too large curved one.
Janet laughed and set both needles aside. "I can't work on Major Carter when she's squirming around." She began to clean the blood from Sam's face, readying the area so that she could begin her work.
Anderson stepped closer to the bed. "I thought Colonel O'Neill was the one who was afraid of needles."
"Oh, he is and so much fun to play with too." Janet chuckled, easing the gauze from Sam's cut. She was almost ready to begin. "I just make it a point to always hide needles from Major Carter. She doesn't seem to mind them if she doesn't see them coming."
Laughing aloud, Anderson glanced around, noting that, as usual, Doctor Frasier had everything under control. She started for the door. "I'll leave you to it then. Give out a shout if you need me."
Nodding, Janet picked up a more appropriate sized hypodermic needle and efficiently injected the site around Sam's injury. She then quickly threaded a smaller curved needle to start the stitching process.
"Damn it, Sam. You've got to learn to be more careful," whispered Janet as she started the first stitch, making sure to keep all the stitches small and close together to minimize scarring. When she finished, she was going to insist that Sam go home for the rest of the day. In fact . . .
"Jan, I can't leave; I've got to get those latest calculations to work. I promised General Hammond that I'd have the gate problem solved by the end of the week. One of the Chevrons keeps sticking." Sam gently eased a clean t-shirt over her head. When she'd come to, Janet had finished up her stitching and was sitting in the chair next to her bed. The first words out of the doctor's mouth had been orders for her to rest.
"You can take your paperwork home." Janet pretended to come up with an idea she'd already hatched. "Say, I've got an idea. Cassie's away with the Anderson's on an overnight trip, and it's a slow day. I can be ready to leave in thirty minutes. Why don't we go home together?"
"Jan, I . . ."
"We could finally use that bubble bath you got for my birthday. I bet that headache of yours could use a soak in a nice . . . hot . . . bath." Janet changed her tone to that of a teasing one, whispering the last few words. Sam swallowed hard.
"Well, it probably wouldn't hurt to clean up a bit before I got back to the numbers problem."
Janet grinned. If she had her way, numbers would be the last thing on Sam's mind. "Okay, you stay here and rest; I'll go pick up your papers. Where'd you leave them?"
"Shit! I gave them to the airman that ran me over. He's probably looking for me." Sam moved to stand, but Janet intercepted her.
"Whoa, you're not going anywhere. I'll call Daniel and have him find the airman. Now, lie back down until it's time to go." Janet lifted Sam's legs and indicated with a nod that her lover should rotate her hips. A rather pointed glare had Sam acquiescing to the doctor's 'suggestion.'
"I'm not tired. I can run down the airman while you finish up in the infirmary." Sam stifled a yawn, struggling to stay alert. The lack of sleep, coupled with the injury and medical attention, edged her closer to succumbing to her exhaustion.
"Daniel won't mind. Now, close your eyes and rest. I'll be back before you know it." Janet gently ran her fingers through the blonde hair. Within minutes, Sam was dead to the world.
Fifteen minutes later, Janet looked down at the papers Daniel had just handed her. "What in hell?" The top page was practically blank, just a few numbers visible here and there.
Daniel pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Um, Private Stevens isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed," he hesitated, "He used bleach to get the blood out."
Janet stared at the stark white pages. "Well, there's certainly no more trace of blood, but how in the hell did he manage to keep the papers from crumbling?" Janet flipped through the next several pages to note the same condition. "Sam bled all over these pages, too?"
"Not exactly; Stevens wanted to make sure no blood seeped through. And, he hung them up on hangers kind of like those in a dark room and hand dried each and every one." Daniel shook his head in amazement at the man's dedication, even if his problem solving skills were sorely lacking. "Sam's going to be pissed."
"That may well be the understatement of the year." Janet slid the pages into a folder. "But, she's not going to find out until much, much later." She fastened the clasp. "Thanks, Daniel. I'll let you know how it went."
Daniel sighed and headed in the other direction. He wouldn't want to be in Janet's shoes when Sam saw the mostly blank pages.
"Just let me get out and help," Sam called from the passenger seat, her rolled down window allowing her to hear the curses coming from the area of the trunk where, apparently, Janet was having difficulty removing the jack and spare.
"I can do this." Janet gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might, the jack finally coming free, the end result of the struggle causing the doctor to lose her balance and land hard on the gravel-covered shoulder of the road. "Shit!"
"Jan?" asked Sam as she slowly opened the door and peered toward the back of the car. She eased a foot out and climbed from the vehicle, deciding to risk Janet's wrath. When her lover didn't come into immediate view, Sam walked forward until she was finally able to see around the opened trunk.
"Goddamned piece of shit," cursed Janet, not so gently placing the jack on the ground so that she could use her hands to more easily push to her feet. Standing, she brushed off the back of her pants and continued to verbally abuse the much needed piece of equipment.
Sam looked from her lover to the jack to the trunk, giving a slight frown at her realization. "Um, Jan, did you by any chance look at the spare before you decided to wrestle the jack to the ground?"
"What?" Janet's head snapped up in surprise. "What are you doing out of the car?"
"I thought you might have hurt yourself."
"Yeah, well, I'll probably be digging gravel out of my ass for a week, but I'm fine. Now, go sit over there in the grass and let me finish changing the flat." Janet scooped the jack from the ground and started for the left rear corner of the car, figuring that was probably where the jack needed to be placed.
Sam ran her hand through her hair, grimacing when she accidentally hit the bandage Janet had placed over her injury. She held her tongue and concentrated on their latest problem. "I don't think it'll do any good to change a flat with a flat."
"What?" Janet turned her attention to the spare and stared at the second flat of the day. How could she have forgotten about driving over that nail last week? She'd promised Sam she'd have the tire repaired, but the week had been so hectic, what with SG-2 and SG-3 coming under attack.
Reaching into her pocket, Sam pulled her cell phone free and hit the speed dial for the wrecker service. She never gave a thought about the many reasons for George's Automotive to have a need for its very own single digit dial.
Two hours later, Janet pulled into her garage on four new tires, not wavering when George had gone on and on about how much wear and tear her current set had accumulated. She looked over and smiled at her sleeping lover.
"Sam? We're here."
Sam just groaned and resettled herself into a more comfortable position. Janet chuckled, undid her seatbelt, and reached over to her lover. "C'mon, Sam, let's get you in a bath and then in bed."
"You go on; I'll be right behind you," muttered Sam, her speech sounding groggy and slurred.
"Uh uh, you'll sleep here for hours and then complain about the crick in your neck." Janet climbed from the car and walked around to the passenger side; she opened the door and reached across to undo the seatbelt. "Get out, Sammy."
"Don't want to." Sam used her new freedom to stretch out and temporarily win the battle, but Janet knew how to fight dirty when she had to. She knew exactly what would get her lover's attention.
"Private Stevens ruined the pages with your calculations."
Sam sat straight up. "What?"
Soft, white bubbles covered the two naked women as Sam lay back against her lover, a new, shiny bandage now in place. Her headache was back with a vengeance.
"This has been the day from hell." Sam appropriately christened the day she'd had, wondering if her bad luck would ever end.
"You're certainly right about that. I've heard about days like this, but I've never actually known anyone that has lived it." Janet lightly brushed her hand across Sam's forehead, being careful not to touch her lover's injury. She was certain the area had to be quite sore after Sam had hit her head on the hard surface of the car when Janet had mentioned the ruined papers. She was just glad none of the stitches had broken loose. "Ready to get out?"
"Don't want to." Sam snuggled closer. Her head felt as if it was about to explode, but her body was feeling no pain. In fact, if her head wasn't killing her, she'd act on her urges and chance soaking the bathroom floor.
Janet chuckled. "The bed is softer." Her laugh morphed into a moan when Sam settled against her pelvic bone and pushed down hard.
"I like where I am." Sam shimmied her hips. Another moan was emitted.
"So do I," muttered Janet, tempted to show Sam just how much she enjoyed their current positions, but as a doctor, she knew she had to follow the oath she'd taken. Sometimes, being a responsible professional sucked. She gently eased from underneath her lover and climbed from the tub, so efficiently Sam hadn't realized her pillow was gone until Janet was standing beside her.
"Hey!" Sam finally opened her eyes and glared at Janet both of them. Blinking rapidly, she managed to eliminate one of them. She just hoped it was the right one.
Janet immediately noted her lover's confusion and knelt down next to the tub; she placed her hand under Sam's chin, her focus on tired-looking blue pupils. "Are you dizzy?"
"In love with you? Yes." Sam knew how to play dirty, too. All she wanted to do was climb into bed with her lover, not go back to the base for a series of head scans. She'd had concussions before and this wasn't it.
"You are such a liar." Janet stood and held out her hand. Sam grabbed hold and very slowly pushed to her feet. She wasn't about to chance falling again. Her head couldn't take another hit.
Easing a towel around Sam, Janet quickly patted her lover dry and led her to the bedroom. She'd just have to keep a close eye on Sam like that would be a chore. Janet smiled at her thoughts as she tucked Sam into bed.
"Now rest." Sparing a glance at the clock, Janet climbed in next to her lover, wondering what else could possibly go wrong. From the moment they'd awakened that morning, things had started to go south. Sam had broken their favorite coffee mugs, caused Janet to ruin her favorite pair of stockings Janet smiled at that particular memory - split her pants on a nail in the garage, made them late to a staff meeting due to the time it took for a quick change of clothing, and then discovered her calculations from the night before hadn't worked. Things had gotten progressively worse from then on.
Sighing, Janet spooned in close behind Sam, sliding her arm possessively around her lover's middle. She'd stay awake and protect Sam from harm even if it meant keeping her in bed until midnight had come and gone, but at precisely 11:50 p.m., a more pressing matter made itself known. Janet lay still for another thirty seconds, before easing from the bed and heading toward the bathroom, totally confident Sam was free from the bonds of her day from hell. She'd just made it to the door when a loud 'thunk' had her spinning around.
She'd been wrong.
Sam had fallen from the bed.
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