STARGATE SG-1: Do No Harm

by Karen Miller

  “So. Guess this is goodbye,” said Daniel, once he’d finished spraying her down. He sounded forlorn. Tried to smile, and couldn’t quite manage it.

  Traitor, traitor, her inner voice whispered.

  She shook her head at him, her Hazmat suit dripping. “No. Not goodbye. I’m just… going next door. Any time you need to talk to me, Daniel, you pick up the phone.” She shifted her gaze. “That goes for all of you. I know you’re scared and lonely and way out of your depth… but you have so many people at home standing with you. So many people praying for you. We won’t stop until we find a way out of this.”

  “We know,” said Dixon, nodding. He was smiling, but his eyes were bleak. “Thanks, Doc. You’d better get going.”

  Yeah. She’d better. The SGC was waiting for her. Safe. Uncontaminated. Light years away from her desperate, struggling friends and the people they were killing themselves to save.

  Oh God. This is too hard.

  She took a step back. One small step towards betrayal. “Look after yourselves. Do whatever it takes to keep Colonel O’Neill in that camp bed. Teal’c, you have my medical authority to sit on him, if that’s what it takes.”

  Teal’c’s eyebrow lifted. “I will tell him you said so”.

  Another step back. Just call me Benedict Arnold. “Remember, you have to take good care of yourselves or you won’t be any good to anyone else.”

  “We will,” said Colonel Dixon. “Don’t worry. It’s all under control.”

  Under control? Are you crazy? This is the most chaotic mess I’ve ever seen in my life. We can’t win this. Not from a distance.

  Yet another step back, the third and final. Even through the Hazmat suit she could feel the wormhole’s fierce pulsing energy, feel the hum of the Stargate buzzing through her bones.

  She looked at Georgetown one last time. At the children. The mothers. The bewildered, struggling fathers. Looked at the faces of the team she was leaving. Turned. Stared at the beckoning event horizon. And thought: Oh God. I can’t do it.

  Before anyone could stop her she twisted the clips on her wet Hazmat suit helmet. Breaking the seal. Breaking a lot of things. Pulled the helmet off and breathed the tainted, killing air of Adjo.

  Shouting behind her. Boots on red rock. Frantic hands seizing her shoulders, spinning her around.

  “You idiot, Janet! What have you done?”

  Dazed, she stared into Daniel’s furious, despairing face. The helmet slipped to the ground. “What I had to, Daniel.”

  He shook her again, not gently. “General Hammond is going to kill you for this! Jack’s going to kill you.”

  She managed a smile. “Don’t forget Adjo. It might have first dibs.”

  He shook her so hard then that her teeth chattered, and a heartbeat later crushed her to his chest in a suffocating hug. “Oh God. You’re insane, Janet. I should kill you.”

  The radio crackled. “SG-1, this is Hammond. We’re still waiting for Doctor Fraiser.”

  Dixon, his face white, dragged the radio from his pocket. “SGC, this is Dixon. We have a problem. Doctor Fraiser is compromised. I say again, she’s been exposed.”

  Silence. Then Dixon’s radio hissed. “Colonel Dixon, let me speak to her.”

  She took the radio with trembling fingers. “This is Fraiser.”

  “Janet.” Hammond sounded wounded. “I trusted you.”

  For a moment she couldn’t answer. “I’m — I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t come here meaning to do this.”

  She heard him breathing, hard, as he struggled to maintain his discipline. Then Dixon snatched the radio, shoved her Hazmat suit helmet in her hands and growled, “Get it on again. Quick.”

  “But — ”

  “Do it!” he shouted. Then he said to Hammond, “Sir, Fraiser’s exposure has been minimal. Recommend you place a decon-team on high alert and — ”

  “Colonel Dixon, if Fraiser’s been compromised her return is not possible. A fact of which she is perfectly well aware.”

  “General — ”

  “Colonel, are you deaf? Fraiser’s stuck there like the rest of you!”

  The helmet still in her hands, Janet met Dixon’s glare without flinching. “He’s right. I can’t go home.”

  “My God. You stupid — ” He bit the rest of his words back, but she could guess what he’d been about to say. Something unmilitary.

  “It’s okay, Colonel. I’ve been called a lot worse than a bitch before now.”

  Ignoring that, Dixon jabbed a finger at the Hazmat helmet. “For the love of Christ, woman, would you put that thing on? There’s still a chance you haven’t been infected and if that’s the case I’d like to keep it that way!”

  Of course. He was right. She was an idiot, not thinking.

  “General Hammond,” said Dixon, as she re-sealed herself inside the Hazmat suit, “I am sorry. I didn’t see it coming, or I’d have — ”

  “It’s all right, Colonel. Nobody’s blaming you. Doctor Fraiser is responsible for her own actions and she alone will suffer their consequences.”

  She held out her hand. After a brief hesitation, Dixon gave her the radio. “Sir,” she said, “I appreciate you’re less than pleased with me right now. Respectfully, I request that you table your disapproval of my actions until we can discuss them face to face, and instead focus our energies on reaching a successful resolution to our current crisis.”

  “Are you saying you think there’s a way out of this?”

  She looked at Teal’c, who’d not said a word or even moved since she threw her hat in the ring with SG-1. He returned her stare, face tranquil, eyes blazing. In the back of her mind, an idea clamored to be heard.

  “Sir, I have a glimmer of a thought. Request permission to follow it up.”

  “Permission granted,” said Hammond, after a long pause, his voice heavy with irony.

  “Thank you, General. Sir, I’m going to need more equipment. A lot of it. Can I send you a list?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the meantime, can Doctor Warner and the lab team get started on those tissue samples?”

  “I’ll see to it. Doctor — ”

  She knew what he wanted. Wished she could give it to him. “I don’t know, sir. When I said a glimmer, I wasn’t being modest. I have to think about it. I need some time.”

  “Well, Doctor, for your sake — as well as everyone else’s — let’s hope you’ve made the right choice.”

  “Yes, sir.” Guilt scorched her. “Sir — about Cassie — ”

  “I’ll take care of her. Hammond out.”

  Stunned, she handed Dixon back his radio. “Thank you, Colonel.”

  As the wormhole collapsed, he shoved the radio in his pocket. “Okay. What now?”

  “Now?” She breathed out, long and slow. “Now I make a list of the things I need from the SGC, then I get to take a long walk and see if I can figure this out. You, Daniel and Teal’c should get back to the hospital tents. You’ve got rounds.”

  He stared at her. “God almighty, you’re a piece of work.”

  “Hey!” said Daniel sharply. “She’s put her life at risk for us, Dixon. Don’t go taking that tone with her.”

  The look Dixon gave him was eerily reminiscent of Jack at his most scathing. “Doctor Jackson, as the highest ranking military officer still standing I’ll take whatever tone I like with Doctor Fraiser, who also happens to be a captain in the United States Air Force.”

  Daniel traded him glare for glare. “Be careful, Colonel. She keeps a stash of blunt hypodermics.”

  Janet bit her lip. “Sorry, sir. We’ve been friends for a while. And Daniel never has managed to get the hang of military protocols.”

  Dixon’s scathing stare was transferred to her. “And if what I just saw is any indication, Doctor, the same thing could be said for you!”

  Ouch. “When I became a doctor, Colonel Dixon, I took an oath to my patients that transcends every other promise I’ll make in my life. I don’t suppose you know what it s
aid?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Do no harm.”

  She jabbed a thumb behind her. “If I’d stepped through that Stargate I’d have broken my word.”

  Still angry, Dixon nodded. “I get that. I do. Just…” He scrubbed a hand over his pale, tired face. “Be right, okay? Just be right.” Then he sighed. “Jackson and I’ll be doing rounds, if you need us.”

  He walked away. After a moment, Daniel followed.

  Teal’c considered her gravely. “You have taken a great risk, Doctor Fraiser.”

  She shrugged. “I had to.”

  “This… glimmer of a thought. Does it by any chance involve my symbiote?”

  Mouth dry, heart thudding, she bit her lip. “Pretty arrogant, I know. Seeing as how I didn’t ask if that was okay.”

  His eyes warmed. “It is okay, Doctor Fraiser.”

  “You have my word, Teal’c,” she said harshly. “I won’t put you at risk.”

  The warmth in his eyes died. “You will do what you must to save SG-1 and the people of Adjo, Doctor. To do less than that will dishonor us both.”

  She had no answer for him. All she had was hope. “All right. It’s a deal.”

  Hammond stood for a long time in the control room after the wormhole from Adjo had collapsed. Sound by sound, the stunned silence surrendered to his people returning to work around him.

  I should have known. I should have realized. Once she was there, she could never come back. Never abandon them. I’ve been a damned fool.

  “Sergeant Harriman,” he said quietly, “ensure that Doctor Warner’s team gets those tissue samples ASAP. Tell him if there’s any further equipment or personnel he needs, I want to know about it. I’ll be in my office.”

  Harriman nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He walked out, his spine straight, his shoulders unbowed, and felt half a dozen gazes follow him.

  The first thing he did was call his daughter, asking her to collect Cassandra from school. The child and his grand-daughters were good friends. She could have a sleepover with them, and tomorrow they’d make more permanent arrangements for her care until Janet returned.

  If she returns. If she hasn’t done something that can’t be undone. No. He couldn’t think like that. In that direction lay despair, the great sin. She’ll come home. She has to.

  By the time Dixon realized Jackson had left the hospital tents it was too late. He’d already told O’Neill about Fraiser’s crazy-ass stunt. He walked into SG-1’s tent just as O’Neill was flailing about trying to get on his feet.

  “Where is she? Where the hell is she?”

  “Fraiser’s busy,” he said, and drilled Jackson with a look. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut for five minutes, could you?”

  Jackson fired up. “Hey, he’s our team leader. He’s got a right to know!”

  “Yeah, but did he have to know ten seconds after it happened? He’s sick, dammit, he’s supposed to be resting. Now you’ve got him wallowing around like a drunken hippo and what good is that going to do him? Fraiser’s here and she ain’t going anywhere. He could’ve ripped her a new one after he got some more sleep.”

  “Okay,” said O’Neill. “Sitting right here, if anyone’s interested.”

  Jackson turned to him. “I couldn’t stop her, Jack. If I’d had any idea she was planning something this crazy I would‘ve — ”

  “I know,” said O’Neill. He sounded exhausted. Looked worse. “It’s okay, Daniel. I want to kill Fraiser, not you.” He smiled, without humor. “For once.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Jackson rubbed at his eyes. “Hell, Jack. What are we doing to do?”

  “Nothing,” said O’Neill. “Dixon’s right. Fraiser’s made her bed, now she’ll have to lie in it.” His breath caught and he started coughing, that dreadful tearing bark.

  Dixon looked at him, then turned. “Daniel,” he said quietly. “Can you give us a minute?”

  “Go,” O’Neill wheezed. “Find out what Fraiser’s on about with this glimmer of thought crap.” Then, as the tent flap closed behind Jackson, he added, “Well? What?”

  Dixon shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, Jack. How do you want play this?”

  “Play what?”

  “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.”

  “Is that a statement of fact or wishful thinking?”

  O’Neill glared, his bloodshot eyes baleful. “I’m not dying.”

  Maybe not today. “Okay. But…?”

  Silence. O’Neill’s face was a study in angry indecision. Then it cleared. “But I’m not capable of leading this team, either. Or this mission. I haven’t been for days.”

  More silence. Beyond the insubstantial canvas wall, life in Georgetown went on. Dixon blinked. “I didn’t expect you to admit it.”

  “Because Frank told you I was an egomaniacal jerk?”

  “No. Because I know what they mean to you.”

  O’Neill grunted.

  Frustrated, he banged a fist on his thigh. “I swear, I didn’t know Fraiser was going to do it, Jack. I wish to God I’d realized. I got her back into the Hazmat suit — too slowly, I admit, but — anyway. Chances are she’ll be okay.”

  A convulsive shudder ran through O’Neill’s body, and he dropped his forehead into his hands. “She’s too gutsy for her own good, that’s her problem.”

  “I guess…” He chewed his lip. “If she stayed here instead of going back then we’re even more screwed than we thought. And now she’s screwed, right along with us.”

  O’Neill nodded, still staring at the ground. “Yeah.”

  The man was deeply distressed. Dixon felt his jaw drop. “Hey. You and Fraiser. You’re not — ”

  “What?” O’Neill looked up. “No! God, no. She’s my doctor. We’re friends.”

  Which meant squat, but he’d let it go for now. “Jack, I need to know. If you’re too sick to stay team leader, are you willing to trust me with the mission, and your people’s lives?”

  O’Neill snorted. “You mean I get a choice?”

  “Of course. Say the word and I’ll defer to Teal’c. No problem. But there might be a bit of a problem if I have to call Jackson ‘sir’.”

  Another snort. “Hey. I’m sick, I’m not demented.”

  Dixon dropped to a crouch, so they were at eye level. “I’ll keep your people safe, Jack. As safe as I can. You have my word.”

  “Yeah. I know. But don’t get the wrong idea, Dixon. This doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to you about Cromwell.”

  “Didn’t think it did.”

  “Just so long as we’re clear.”

  “We are.”

  “Okay.” O’Neill shook his head wearily. “Get Fraiser in here, would you? Now Daniel’s woken me up I might as well give her a piece of what’s left of my mind.” He pulled a face. “My last official act as team leader.”

  He stood. “You sure?”

  “No, I just said it to amuse myself.”

  “Yeah. Right. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He found Fraiser and Teal’c in the tent the Jaffa used for his kel’noreem. They were both cross-legged on the matting, with Fraiser taking notes from whatever Teal’c was saying.

  “O’Neill wants to see you, Doc,” he said. “He’s pretty pissed so I don’t suggest you keep him waiting.”

  Fraiser sighed. “Dammit, Daniel…” She closed the note book. “Time to face the music, I guess.”

  Teal’c went with them to SG-1’s tent. They ducked inside, and Dixon slid himself into an unobtrusive shadow. Can’t wait to see how O’Neill handles this.

  Fraiser spoke first. “Colonel O’Neill, you — ”

  O’Neill’s finger jabbed at her. “Shut up.” He turned to Teal’c, and not even the ravages sickness had wrought could hide the bitter anger in h
im. “Tell me you didn’t know she was going to do this. Tell me you didn’t cook up this insane stunt because you think this mess is all your fault.”

  Teal’c stood at parade rest. “I did not know. I had no hand in Doctor Fraiser’s actions.”

  Silence. Dixon watched as some of the burning fury drained from O’Neill’s eyes. “Okay.”

  “O’Neill — ” Teal’c began, but O’Neill’s finger jabbed again.

  “Now you shut up.” He glared at Fraiser. “Well?”

  Behind the curved plastic of the Hazmat suit’s face-mask, Fraiser’s expression was torn between anger and chagrin. “Colonel, I don’t appreciate your tone.”

  “And I don’t appreciate you being a bonehead.”

  “Does that mean you intend to decline any treatment I might arrive at as a result of my actions?”

  Nailed him. O’Neill stared. “You can fix this? For real?”

  “No promises, Colonel,” Fraiser said coolly. “But I do have an idea. Teal’c and I just need time to figure a few things out.”

  A sideways glance at Teal’c. “Where does he fit in?”

  “My symbiote,” said Teal’c. “Doctor Fraiser believes it might hold the key to a cure.”

  “Not a cure, a treatment,” said Fraiser, edgy. “Cure is a four-letter word.”

  “Potayto, potarto!” said O’Neill, just as edgy. “Can you fix this or not?”

  “Perhaps. If my idea pans out there’s a chance we can eradicate all symptoms of this plague. Maybe even knock out the core virus itself.”

  “I thought the plague disappeared on its own after the rebirthing season,” said O’Neill. “Isn’t that what the villagers said?”

  Fraiser didn’t answer that one. Behind the face-mask her eyes were guarded.

  “What?” said O’Neill, and sat a little straighter, even though it clearly cost him. “Fraiser? What?”

  “The plague viruses have mutated beyond their normal parameters,” she said carefully. “As a result, I suspect they won’t return to dormancy as usual.”

  “Because of us, right?” said O’Neill, closing his eyes. “Somehow us coming here has screwed with rebirth.”

  Fraiser sighed, a metallic sound through the Hazmat suit intercom. “I’m afraid so.”