Trauma 2/4 (femslash, Stargate SG-1 Sam/Janet)
Sam continued to hold Janet as they transferred her to a bed in a private room in the infirmary, and cradled her as the nursing staff changed her into a loose-fitting gown. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but even in her delirium seemed to be aware of Sam's presence, and became distressed if she thought she had gone.
"It's okay, baby," Sam whispered, over and over, stroking her forehead. "I'm here, I swear. I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna stay by your side. I won't leave you, not for one minute."
"Fever's still rising," Michaels said grimly. "103.1." She turned to Sam. "I know she's gonna hate it, but we should really do a lumbar puncture. We need to establish the strength of the infection, make sure we're getting the dose of antibiotics right."
Sam grimaced. She knew that the procedure could be very unpleasant, and she wanted to avoid any further misery for her lover. But she also knew that Michaels had only Janet's best interests at heart. "Okay," she said in a quiet voice. "Just let me tell her what you're gonna do."
Michaels put her hand on Sam's shoulder. "She probably won't take it in, Sam," she said gently. "She's really out of it."
Sam nodded. "I still wanna tell her," she said, her voice cracking. "In case she realizes, and starts to panic."
Michaels squeezed her shoulder. "Okay," she said simply.
Sam turned her attention to her lover. "Jan," she whispered quietly, running a soft hand down her fevered cheek. "Jan, I need you to listen. Can you do that for me baby, just for a moment?" She kissed her lovingly on the forehead.
Janet whimpered, but forced her eyes open, gasping at the pain that the light caused.
"Keep them shut, baby," Sam said, and gestured toward Michaels who immediately went to the light switch and turned the illumination down. "Just listen, okay," she took one of Janet's hands, and was pleased to feel a slight squeeze in return. "Frankie's gonna do a lumbar puncture. It won't take long, and I'll be with you all the time. I know it's gonna hurt, Jan, but we need you to be brave. Frankie needs to know exactly what meds are gonna get you better fastest, and we all want that, don't we?" She felt light pressure on her fingers again.
"In a moment," Sam continued, "We're gonna roll you onto your side. Then we're going to draw your knees up to your chest, and I'm going to hold you as tight as I can. We need you to be as still as possible, while Frankie puts the needle in. You know the drill. It'll be over real quick, Jan. And you'll be in my arms the whole time. Okay, honey? Squeeze my hand if you got at least some of that." Again, she felt a faint pressure on her fingers.
Michaels got an angled lamp, placing it on a table behind Janet. "Thanks," she said to Sharon, one of the head nurses, as she came in with a tray of implements, including perhaps the largest needle Sam had ever seen.
"Okay, we ready?" Michaels asked, keeping her voice low.
Sam slid a gentle arm around Janet, taking care not to dislodge the IV that snaked from her arm. She rested her other hand on Janet's forehead. "We're gonna move now, Jan," she said quietly, and carefully rolled Janet on to her side. Janet moaned in pain. "Shh," Sam said, "we're nearly there now baby. Just need to get your legs up, so's the needle goes in nice and easy." She motioned to Sharon, who stepped forward, and helped move Janet's legs into the right position.
"That's good, hon," Sam kept up a quiet running commentary. "Frankie's just swabbing the area now, baby, just to make sure everything's clean. Next you'll feel the anesthetic going in. There," she said, as Michaels withdrew the small needle from the local anesthetic. "You did good, honey. Now," she took a deep breath, and tightened her hold on her lover, "we're just gonna give it a couple of minutes to take effect, right Frankie?"
Michaels nodded her assent. "Two minutes'll do it," she said.
"We'll just stay here and wait, huh?" Sam's tone was tender. She felt Janet reach out and grasp her shirt. She leaned down and kissed her softly. "Nearly there, Jan," she knew that Janet knew much more about medical procedures than she did, but she guessed that the sound of her voice would be reassuring to Janet. After a couple of minutes, Michaels nodded to Sam. "Okay, Jan," Sam said. "Here it goes."
Janet's grip on Sam's shirt tightened, and her already-labored breathing quickened as she felt the needle penetrate. Sam's strong arms held her tight and still, her grip somehow gentle but vise-like at the same time. In under two minutes, it was all over and Michaels was withdrawing the needle.
"There," Sam said quietly, "you did real good baby. She relaxed her hold somewhat, so that she was cradling Janet, rather than restraining her. Janet's grip on Sam's shirt remained fierce. Her face was creased in pain, her breathing coming in short gasps.
Michaels handed the syringe and its contents over to Sharon. She put a gentle hand on Sam's back. "Let's see if we can make breathing a bit easier for her," she said in a quiet voice, trying not to alarm Sam. She reached up at the back of the bed and unhooked the nasal cannula from its stand. Sam nodded, in comprehension, and moved Janet slightly to the side so that her face was exposed. Expertly, Michaels fitted the cannula, and hooked the tubes behind Janet's ears. Slowly Janet's breathing eased.
"Thanks," Sam's voice was anguished. "That's better, huh, baby?" she soothed. She was disconcerted to realize that Janet was crying again. "Shh," she tried to comfort her. "That's the worst over now, Jan. We're gonna let you relax now, no more needles."
Michaels injected something into the IV. "That should help with the pain," she told Sam.
"Try and sleep now, baby," Sam whispered to Janet. "You need to heal." She noticed that Janet had still not released her shirt, and that her own front was wet with Janet's tears. She kissed her on the forehead. "You need to lie back, honey. I'll stay with you, I swear." She put a hand over Janet's, and very gently pried it away from her shirt, holding it as she rolled Janet carefully onto her back. She noticed that Janet's hand remained twisted, in a claw-like shape. She brought it to her lips and kissed it. "Try to relax, Jan," she held the rigid hand in her own, massaging the tight fingers. "Frankie?" Sam asked, "her hand's all twisted."
"Her nervous system's taking a beating," Michaels explained. "There may be some involuntary reactions. There's not a lot we can do, not until the antibiotics take hold. We can always get her some physical therapy when she's better."
Sam looked up at her pleadingly. "She will get better, Sam," Michaels tried to sound confident. "If I have anything to do with it. She's strong, remember. And fit. And," she smiled at Sam. "She's a woman in love. She has a lot to live for."
= = =
"103.7," Michaels admitted when Sam questioned her nearly two hours later.
"So the drugs aren't working?" Sam demanded.
"I didn't say that," Michaels said. "It can take a while.."
Janet lay in Sam's arms, deathly pale, sweat pouring down her. Periodically, she whimpered and her limbs twitched involuntarily.
Michaels took out her stethoscope, and listened to Janet's chest, then took up her wrist and checked her pulse. Most of the information was available on the computer screen that blinked by Janet's bed, but Frankie Michaels liked to check things for herself.
"More ice packs," Michaels said to Sharon. "And maybe a dry gown?"
Sam realized that Janet's gown was soaked through. She checked the mattress underneath her. "Mattress is soaked too," she said to Michaels.
"Let's get that changed," Michaels said efficiently. "Sam, do you think you could hold her while we slide a new bed under her? I think that may be less distressing for her."
"Sure," Sam said, "just tell me when."
When the new bed was ready to swap out, Sam tenderly gathered Janet in her arms, and lifted her off the bed. Janet whimpered in her arms, and again grabbed on to Sam's shirt. "Shh," Sam whispered into her hair, kissing her on the forehead. "We're just gonna make you more comfortable. Get you out of these wet things." Within seconds, the dry bed was in place. Sam noted approvingly that it had a thick towel on it; that would be easier to change next time. She lay Janet back on the mattress.
She continued to cradle her lover, as Sharon peeled away the damp gown, patting Janet down carefully before covering her with another gown, this time just placed loosely over her. "Easier that way," Sharon said, starting to place ice packs all round Janet, at her neck, under her arms, her knees and on her front.
Sam nodded, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. This was her worst nightmare. Her lover, her reason for living, was deathly sick, and there was nothing she could do for her. She would rather face down the worst alien, or engage in the fiercest battle, than watch Janet suffer.
"Are you okay?" Michaels asked Sam in a quiet voice.
Sam nodded. "M'fine," she whispered.
Michaels approached Sam, and put a hand to her forehead, checking for fever. She smiled when she found none. "Vaccine seems to be working," she smiled. "At least you're okay."
"I'd swap places with her in a heartbeat if I could," Sam said.
"I know, Sam," Michaels said. "I know. And if you could, I'd be having the exact same conversation with her right here, right now."
= = =
Over the next few hours, Janet's condition became slowly worse. Michaels was in and out of Janet's room. General Hammond had drafted in more doctors to cope with the crisis, so both Drs Warner and Hendon were on site, but Michaels was still in charge so she had to check on all her patients.
By 9pm that night, Janet's fever had reached 104.2°F, and she lay panting in Sam's arms. She was by now deeply unconscious, and had shown no signs of recognizing anybody for hours.
General Hammond joined Michaels in the observation room. "How are they, doctor?" he asked.
Michaels turned to face him. "Hesketh has finally started to respond to the drugs," she told him. "His fever has fallen marginally. It spiked at 103.8, but is now down to 102.4. If he continues to improve, he should be out of the woods by morning."
"And the others?" Hammond asked. He couldn't admit it to anyone, but he had a particularly soft spot for Janet Fraiser. While he cared about all those serving under him, he felt a deep affection for the sparky medic.
"Not so good," Michaels took a deep breath. "Both Street and Janet are struggling," she admitted. "Street's fever is 104°F, but it hasn't risen in over an hour, which may be good news. Janet just seems to be getting worse. I hate to say it, Sir, but maybe we should be thinking of contacting her next of kin. Just in case."
"Who's down on her files?" Hammond asked.
"Her brother," Michaels said. "But I know they don't have a good relationship. I don't think they've talked properly for years. Should we call him Sir?" she asked.
Neither of them had seen O'Neill enter the observation room a few moments before.
"She's got her next of kin with her," O'Neill said, unexpectedly. "She's got Carter."
"Do you care to explain that statement?" Hammond asked.
"The doc loves Carter. Carter loves the doc. It's as simple as that," O'Neill said.
Hammond looked down at the two women in the room below them. Realization suddenly dawned. He was not watching two friends, one comforting the other. He was watching lovers. "Did Captain Carter tell you that?" he asked O'Neill.
O'Neill shook his head. "Nope," he said. "She and the doc try to pretend it's not happening. They don't try real hard," he smiled, "but they try. But you just have to see Carter's face light up when she enters the infirmary. "Don't take this personally," he addressed Michaels. "But for most of us, going to the infirmary is not an experience we relish," he grimaced.
Michaels turned to him, a smile crossing her tired features. She had been on duty over 24 hours.
"So what is your recommendation, Colonel?" Hammond asked. "That we don't call Dr Fraiser's brother?"
"Exactly that," O'Neill replied. "He's a dweeb. Fraiser told me so. It'll only upset her if he turns up. If she even realizes he's there," he added sadly.
Hammond looked at him, and then at Michaels. "I'm prepared to take your recommendation Colonel. And if there should be any comeback, anything at all, Dr Michaels, you tell whoever asks that it was my decision."
"Isn't that a breach of policy, Sir?" Michaels asked.
"Damned straight it is," O'Neill said.
"Doctor, do you think that there would be any benefit to Dr Fraiser if her brother were to come?" Hammond asked.
Frankie Michaels knew the answer to that. She knew, as Sam did, that Janet's brother had disowned her four years ago when she had come out to him. "None at all Sir," she said quietly.
"Then the decision is made," Hammond said. "I'm due to retire soon anyway," he added, giving a small smile. "I have very little to lose."
"Thank you Sir," Michaels said, stifling a yawn.
"It's time you got some sleep, doctor," Hammond said.
"I don't want to leave Janet," Michaels said. "I'm okay."
"I have no doubt you are, but I want you to stay that way. Get some sleep, doctor, and that's an order. I'll leave orders that you should be woken if you're needed."
Michaels nodded. "Okay," she said. She was bone tired. "I'll just check in on Janet first, then I'll go, is that okay, Sir?" she asked.
"Perfectly," Hammond agreed. He and O'Neill watched from the observation room as Frankie Michaels entered Janet's room, pushing a high-backed chair from her own office, on which were two pillows and a thick blanket.
"Hey," Michaels said as Sam looked up at her entrance.
Sam tried to smile. "No change," she whispered, her hand caressing Janet's twisted fist.
"I'm not gonna ask you to go to your quarters," Michaels said. "Even though Hammond has just ordered me to go sleep. But will you try and sleep for a bit here? This chair should be more comfortable," she motioned to it.
"Thanks," Sam said in a small voice. She allowed Michaels to swap the chairs over, and sighed as she sank comfortably into the new chair. Michaels put one pillow behind her head, and wedged the other one under her arm, so that she could still hold Janet's hand without getting too stiff. She shook out the blanket, and tucked it around Sam.
"That okay?" Michaels asked.
"You're a peach," Sam replied. "Thank you Frankie."
"If you need me, call me," Michaels insisted. "I'm in 107."
"Thank you," Sam whispered, but her attention was already back on Janet.
Michaels squeezed her shoulder as she left.
Despite herself, Sam fell to sleep about 1am, her hand still holding Janet's. So she was startled just before 2am, when she felt her hand being pulled sharply. In horror, she looked over and saw that Janet was jerking uncontrollably, her breathing coming in pained gasps. "I need help!" Sam shouted, as she leapt to her feet and held her seizing lover as tight as she could, in an attempt to stop her hurting herself. Janet's head was back at an awkward angle, and her limbs jerked independently of each other. Dr Hendon came running in, syringe in hand. He injected 10mg of valium directly into the IV on the back of Janet's hand. He then grabbed an oxygen mask from the side of Janet's bed, and held it over her face. Slowly, her seizure slowed, then stopped. Her breathing became less labored.
Eventually, Janet opened her eyes, looking up to see Sam gazing down at her, love and concern etched equally on her face. "S'ry," her voice was almost inaudible, and then her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped in Sam's arms.
Sam kept a tight hold on Janet, whispering lovingly to her. She could feel the terrible heat rising from her, and took the cool washcloth that was passed to her by a nurse who had entered with Hendon. She lovingly sponged Janet down, trying desperately to cool her down. The nurse replaced the ice packs with new ones, but she caught her looking at Hendon and giving a minute shake of the head. "No," Sam said icily. "Don't you dare give up on her. Nobody's giving up on her. She's gonna be okay. You'll be okay, baby," she tried desperately to stop the tears from falling from her eyes. "Get Frankie in here. We need Frankie," Sam felt as though the bottom had fallen out of her world. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"I'm here," a sleep-rumpled Francine Michaels said. "And nobody's giving up on her. I want the antibiotic dose trebled. Now! she barked at Hendon.
"But isn't that...," Hendon started.
"A risk?" Michaels snapped. "Yes, it is. But it's all we have. It's worked before. I said now," her tone was low and dangerous.
"I can't lose her," Sam whispered. "She's all I care about."
"We're giving it our best shot," Michaels said, and hugged Sam tightly from behind.
"How long?" Sam asked.
"Before we know if it's worked?" Michaels asked. "Hard to tell. I think we'll have a good idea in the next hour or two."
Sam nodded, misery threatening to engulf her. She lifted a shivering Janet in her arms, shocked at how frail she was, and then carefully climbed on the bed with her. She lay down, Janet held tight to her chest. "Sleep now, baby," she whispered, praying that this was one sleep from which Janet would eventually awaken. But if she didn't, Sam wanted her to feel safe, and loved, right to the end.
Sam held Janet, barely breathing herself, just waiting and praying. Francine Michaels took up Sam's seat in the chair, checking Janet's temperature every 10 minutes. For the first hour, there was no change. Finally, Janet seemed to relax in Sam's arms, and her breathing became less painful. Michaels checked her temperature again. Sam looked at her anxiously.
Michaels smiled. "Too early to make a judgment," she said. "But it's fallen slightly. 103.8. It's still far too high, and I can't make any promises. But it's moving in the right direction.
Janet's fever continued to fall, and she was less distressed. At 5.30am, Sam slid out from underneath her, still holding her hand. "She feels cooler," she said to Michaels, who took out her thermometer again.
"102," Michaels smiled. "It looks like it's working. I think she's going to be okay, Sam."
At that, Sam's eyes filled with tears. She started to sob, uncontrollably, her chest heaving, her whole body wracked with emotion. Michaels pulled her into a tight hug and, for the first time in nearly 36 hours, Sam released her hold on Janet, and allowed Michaels to comfort her. "I thought I'd lost her," she hiccoughed. "I don't think I could live without her."
"It doesn't look like you're going to have to," Michaels said. "Not for a long time, anyways."
Sam accepted the comfort offered. Her nerves were stretched to breaking point, and she was also physically drained, having awake up for nigh on 48 hours. After a few minutes, she pulled away from Michaels. "Thank you Frankie," she said quietly. "For everything. For Janet."
Michaels pushed Sam gently back into the chair, settling her again with pillows and the blanket. Sam reached out and took Janet's hand, which was still tensed in an awkward fist. She looked up at Michaels.
"Looks like a bit of nerve damage," Michaels said.
"Will it be permanent?" Sam asked.
"Hard to tell," Michaels admitted. "Right now, we first need to be sure that there's no brain damage. It's looking good, Sam," she reassured the stricken captain, as she checked Janet's vitals. "But we'll have to wait until Janet wakes up before we can be sure."
"M'awake," a cracked voice said.
"Janet!" Sam cried. "Janet, baby. Oh God Janet. Are you okay?" she gathered her lover in her arms.
Janet tried to focus on Sam, but her vision kept swimming. "M'okay," she said. A tremor shook her. "Feel lousy," she admitted, her voice still not much above a whisper. "Thirsty." She could feel Sam's hot tears falling on her face.
Sam pulled back, and smoothed the sweaty hair back from Janet's forehead. She took the cup of ice chips proffered by Michaels, and very carefully spooned a few onto Janet's chapped lips. Janet's tongue darted out and swept them up gratefully.
Michaels smiled first at Sam, and then at Janet. "You gave us a hell of a scare there, Janet," she said gently. "But you're gonna be alright. She'll be fine, Sam. She'll be fine."