Title: Stories from the Table: The Infirmary

Author: JoaG

Feedback: joag_sg1@hotmail.com

Author Website: http://members.attcanada.ca/~jogall/

Rating: PG Pairing: Jack/Daniel, established relationship

Category: Challenge, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Date: 09 March 2003

Status: Complete

Series: Tokra Flats Table series

Season/Spoilers: None

Archive: Alpha Gate, Area 52 Others, please ask, I'll share (except for Daniel - hands off, he's mine <G>)

Synopsis: The traveling table in the infirmary Notes: Un-beta'd and this all due to the gals in AG Chat Devra, thanks mucho for the read through.

Stories from the table; The Infirmary, by JoaG

I am a table. I am a rectangular four-foot wide by eight-foot long, golden oak table with lots of grain, a leg on each corner, and a polyurethane sealant. This is important, because though it removes me from the level of `fine' furniture, it adds to my versatility and my longevity. I was purchased in the early 90's by the U.S. Air Force Quartermaster in a spasm of upgrades for the offices of NORAD. After I was delivered I was reassigned to a priority slot in a new command under the mountain cryptically referred to as SGC. I can seat eight formally, ten comfortably, and twelve friendly. Because I was purchased without chairs, I knew that my life would be one of utilitarianism not formal dining. In other words, I'll see a lotof service of all kinds.

Presently I am in the infirmary, overloaded with boxes full of supplies as the medical supply room is being repaired due to a water leak. My legs would tremble with the strain were I not solidly built. I am shoved against the wall, in an area where I am easily accessible to all.

Klaxons blare repeatedly as injured personnel are brought in, one after the other. There is much activity in and around me. I am bumped and prodded, kicked and shoved, as the white-clothed workers rush around me in their haste to reach the injured. Moans and screams echo in the room as more and more injured are brought inside.

Frantic hands paw through the supplies which I hold. Some fall to the floor, to be kicked beneath me, or randomly picked up and tossed aside. Soon what I held neatly and proudly becomes strewn in disarray atop me, some discarded or forgotten.

A gurney is pushed up beside me and frenzied activity surrounds the person lying on it. Once more hands rifle through the supplies; they are quickly and efficiently selected and removed. A moan sounds beside me, and a hand falls onto my surface. Warm fluid drips from the fingers which grasp ineffectively at my slick covering. A foot kicks against me, jarring more supplies from their precarious ledge, causing them to spill onto the floor.

A body squeezes beside myself and the gurney; and I recognize Tall Military Jack. He removes the hand which is clutching at me, and holds it gently between his own. "Easy, Daniel. I'm here," he whispers softly to the body lying on the gurney.

"Jack, it hurts," comes the pained reply. I recognize the voice of Tall Civilian Daniel, although it is very strained. Small Lady Janet speaks from across the gurney. "I've given you something for the pain, Daniel. You should start feeling better in a little while." She does something to the equipment that is connected to Tall Civilian Daniel, and looks over at Tall Military Jack. "He's stable for now, Colonel. We'll need to get him to surgery soon, but there are more severely injured that we have to treat first."

With a pat on the injured man's shoulder, Small Lady Janet rushes off and examines another patient. The beds are all filled with patients, and several gurneys similar to the one beside me are parked all around the room.

"Hold on, Daniel. You're gonna be fine." Tall Military Jack reaches over and plucks a cloth from atop me, and wipes the sweat from Tall Civilian Daniel's face. I can hear the harsh breathing of Tall Civilian Daniel as he attempts to control his pain. His foot jars against me once more, and Tall Military Jack repeats, "Easy, easy Danny."

The cries of the injured begin to grow less as they are either removed from the room, or given medication or treatments to ease their pain. Several are covered up with blankets, and are wheeled out with sad-faced attendants.

The breathing of Tall Civilian Daniel begins to calm, and Tall Military Jack leans back against me. His body shakes and the boxes near him quiver in empathy.

"Sorry, sorry Jack," Tall Civilian Daniel murmurs softly.

"Sorry for what, Daniel?" he answers.

"My fault, I should have seen this. I should have known. I should have been able to…"

"Daniel, for crying out loud! It was an ambush. The damn Goa'uld and Jaffa were ready and waiting for us. They tricked us…there was no way you could have known. Don't you dare start to blame yourself."

"So many dead, Jack. So many injured. I could have prevented this, I shouldn't have tried to convince General Hammond to go ahead with this mission."

"The General didn't need convincing, Daniel. He had already made up his mind. Don't blame yourself. If you're gonna blame someone, blame the Goa'uld. This is what they do best."

"Sam, Teal'c?" Daniel asks. His voice begins to waver and weaken.

Tall Military Jack answers, "They're fine, Daniel. They're supervising the retreat." When his friend doesn't respond, he whispers, "Daniel?"

"Tired, Jack," he sighs.

They remain there for an interminable amount of time, one lying wounded and unconscious, the other holding his hand tightly, standing protectively beside him.

Sudden alarms sound from the machinery connected to Tall Civilian Daniel. White-garbed personnel come running, Small Lady Janet being one of them. Tall Military Jack backs up and bumps into me, his hands digging tightly against the edges of my tabletop. "Don't do this, Danny," he mutters softly. Orders are given and obeyed, more supplies grabbed from my dwindling stock. The alarm is shut off, and Small Lady Janet finally looks up at the colonel.

"We've stabilized him, but I'm taking him to surgery immediately." As they wheel the gurney out of the room, she stops by Tall Military Jack and touches his arm. "He'll be fine, Colonel. Go and get some rest."

He watches her go before he allows himself to sag, pushing the boxes aside with his backside as he seats himself on top of me. He rubs a hand over his face and through his hair, before mumbling, "Take good care of him, doc." He pushes off and wearily trudges out of the infirmary.

I am a table. I am a rectangular four foot wide by eight foot long golden oak with lots of grain, a leg on each corner, and a polyurethane sealant. Today, I have saved lives. Today has been a good day.