Hidden Depths

By: sharilyn

EMAIL: sharilyn

Don't own the show or characters, no copyright infringement intended.

I'm sick of everyone thinking they know me; I've just about had it up to here with the subtle smirks and rolled eyes and the particularly galling brand of affectionate condescension mixed with longsuffering good humor that I get from Fraiser and her staff and from Carter and dammit, even Teal'c lately, everytime I open my damned mouth.

I am not here for your freaking amusement, people, I feel like snarling at all of them when even the most innocent and inane statement from my mouth is met with genial grins that quite frankly creep me out more than a bit. I mean, God, what is it with everyone around here lately? A guy gets himself shot to hell for only the umpteenth time and just wants to get the whole healing-of-the-wounds routine over with so he can get the hell out of Dodge and sleep in his own damned bed and piss in his own toilet in the privacy of his own bathroom and sneak a cold beer or two out of his very own fridge...but what happens instead?

The poor guy--yours truly, in other words--has instead found himself reduced to being everybody's pet Colonel for the duration of my stay here in Ye Olde Infirmary, and I don't even have Daniel nearby to taunt and torment and make snarky asides to in an heroic effort to make this neverending ordeal more bearable. And it's irking me beyond belief that my quite understandable ire over my best friend's unavoidable absence has become just one more standard, cutesie O'Neill mannerism to the rest of these grinning morons, all of them cooing and gibbering and practically patting me on the head in passing as they breeze in and out, leaving me to stew in my own disgruntled juices...mindless goobers, every last damned one of them. Shit, just how long is Daniel gonna stay on that stupid Planet-of-the-10,000-Pieces-of-So-NOT-Interesting-Ancient-Junk, anyway?

But I digress. As I was saying before Nurse Sanchez so rudely interrupted me to jab a needle in my iv port and stick that damned instant thermometer thing into my ear, I'm sick of everyone thinking they know me inside and out, just like they know their favorite color or food or how many beers are left in their fridge...hmm, beer....Oh, great, why did I suddenly channel Homer Simpson just now, sigh? Anyway...what all these lovely people I've worked with on a daily basis for seemingly the past millenium of my life don't seem to realize is that there is more--so much more--to me than meets the eye; I am NOT a cliche, dammit, not just some cardboard-cutout caricature of the quintessential bad patient trapped within the evil bowels of medical purgatory...

I'm a human being, with thoughts and feelings and moods and sensitivities and--right now- a suspicious draft up my ass...damn these backless gowns! Which reminds me, where the hell is Fraiser, she promised to bring me fresh scrubs to put on since Miss Wonder Nurse, Tiffany Sanchez, managed to spill almost a whole pitcher of water down my front a few minutes ago. I told Janet there's no way I'm gonna keep this tiny, wimpy little scrap of paper that's trying to pass for an article of clothing on my body for longer than ten minutes; if she doesn't have those scrubs I requested here in my hot little hands in the next two minutes, I'm gonna take this flimsy affront to basic human dignity and tear it right off my body, and then I'm gonna find Sanchez and give her a few suggestions as to just what other uses she can make of this so-called bit of apparel...

Well, it's about time; and don't give me that look, Doc, you can't expect a man to welcome you with a big old smile when half of his body is soaking wet and freezing and the other half is flapping in the breeze and also freezing...just hand over the scrubs and give an old bird a smidgeon of privacy to get into the damned things, for crying out loud! I mean, geez, I don't care how many times she's seen all my business, she doesn't have to take another gander right at this particular moment. And what was that crack she just muttered under her breath? Sounded almost like a cross between a curse and a prayer, and I could swear Daniel's name was in there somewhere...

Yeah, same old same, everyone knows the routine, everyone accepts this foolish, misguided notion that Daniel is the only one who can calm me down and distract me and make me behave like a good little patient while I'm stuck here...well, that's just a load of hooey. HOOEY, I say; the term's probably in the dictionary, and if it isn't, it oughta be. Christ, I mean it just might be true that having Daniel around when I'm recovering seems to make the time go faster, but he does NOT control my behavior or even try to, cause he knows better than to mess with a pissy, hurting Colonel who would rather be almost anywhere else in the known universe than the Infirmary.

No, there's no special magic in Daniel's presence near me when I'm sick or injured, beyond the basic fact that he IS my friend and team mate and is just accustomed to how things work between us in these situations. That's all, simple and straight and to the point. When I'm in here, Daniel (yeah, okay, and pretty much everybody else on base, too) knows how much I hate and detest being here, and he uses that gargantuan intelligence of his to keep me just frustrated and tetchy and irritated enough to stay alert and anxious to get better so I can pay him back for being so annoying...but at the same time he comes up with some pretty cool and innovative ways to keep my mind occupied while my body is knitting itself back together. Which is more than I can say for most of my visitors.

I mean, don't get me wrong here, I'm always glad to have Carter and Teal'c and Feretti and Hammond, et al, drop in for the obligatory Colonel check, and I know I'm damned lucky to have such good and caring friends. But for some unexplainable reason the presence of just about anybody else but Daniel when I'm feeling my lowest just grates on my nerves; he does seem to be the only one sometimes whose mere presence manages to settle me down and make me feel more...relaxed. More centered, more at peace. So, okay, maybe Janet's grumbly little muttered prayer just now does ring a bit true; maybe I have come to depend a bit too much on Daniel's unique bedside manner to see me through these monotonous and all too often repeated visits to Janet's domain. I guess I should worry about that a little bit; I mean, it can't be completely healthy or normal to sit here and fume and fret and practically sulk just because Daniel Jackson is stuck offworld for a bit and can't rush back to sit here with me. For pete's sake, I am a grown man after all; I should be able to lie here like a good, big boy and quite literally take my medicine and behave in a civilized fashion. It isn't Daniel's fault that trade negotiations with those flat-faced, furry guys on planet Whatever, Blah-Blah, took a strange turn and all of SG-5 and Daniel, too, almost ended up becoming co-spouses to some sacred, bovine goddess-animal they all worship over there...

Eww...now that I think about it, Daniel's probably gonna be the one needing comforting and moral support whenever he does drag back through the stargate; kinda selfish of me, I suppose, to lie here pouting and expecting him to rush worriedly to my bedside the second he sets foot on the ramp. Who knows what shape he and SG-5 could be in when they return? I mean, what if that cow-goddess-wife critter tried to MATE with my archaeologist?! I swear, if he comes back with hoof marks on his...no, not even going to go there, this whole line of conjecture is ridiculous, if he was here right now he'd be chortling his ass off at me and giving me those sly, head-down glances over the top of his glasses. And anyway, every damned member of SG-5 knows that they'd better bring Daniel back in as good a condition as he was when he left with them, if not better; I'm sure, if worst came to worst, one of them would bravely offer themselves up as alien Bossie's new husband... Gag, almost makes me glad I damned near got my ass shot off back on that mud world; that little jaunt was a walk in the park compared to what Daniel must be going through now.

Well, dammit, now I can't relax and let the pain meds kick in cause I'm worried about Daniel...oh, and SG-5, as well, of course...Crap, where the hell is that call button doohickey, there's gotta be at least ONE nurse around this place who's enjoying a coffee break or hiding in the supply closet and could come and let me know just what the heck the deal is with SG-5 and Daniel...and that reminds me, where the hell did Carter and Teal'c disappear to? They haven't dropped by to see me at all this morn, and I'm pretty darned sure that that hurts my feelings.

God, why do I have to BE here, why isn't anyone paying any attention to me, I wanna know when Daniel's coming back and why it's so blasted HOT in here and why someone won't bring me a drink of water...I mean, really, what kind of service is this, first Sanchez dumps a gallon of the stuff on me and then they all just leave me high and dry and thirsty, so thirsty...if Daniel was here, he'd get me some water, for damned sure...stupid pain meds, making me all fuzzy and goofy, what's a guy got to do around here to get a lil, a bittle, I mean, a little service...DANIEL! Where's Daniel, I need him here, he never read the rest of that godawful boring book to me, and I have a question for him, DANIEL!! Huh, what?... Oh, Janet, it's you...

Why you frowning like that, Doc, who pissed in your wheaties...whaddaya mean, why am I bellowing Dr. Jackson's name? Who, Daniel? Daniel's not here, Doc, he's off marrying a crow, no, I mean a cow...you know, Elsie, nice jugs, gives milk? Geez, Doc, get a clue here, even hopped up on narcotics I know Daniel isn't hiding under my hospital bed...is he? Oh, Janet, where is he, where's my buddy, my friend, my fair-haired connoisseur of all things ancient and boring? Oh, water, you've brought water, I think I love you...Doc, Doc, you're really the greatest, did I ever tell you that...shh, don't let her know, Danny, she'll be insufferably smug for WEEKS if she overhears me say that...oh. Oops.

Doc, oh Do--oc!...Is that the "Offworld Activation" signal I'm hearing? Does that mean Daniel's back, is he okay, has he been molested by two tons of prime chuck? Oh, Daniel, I'm sorry, man, I'll never treat you bad again, if that cow from hell hurt you and we have to share a room, I swear I won't snore or fart or make politically incorrect jokes...but hey, just watch out for that Sanchez wacko, she has some sort of water fetish...

Daniel...Daniel, I got shot and all I got was this lousy injection and now I think I gotta sleep awhile but when I wake up I bet you'll be right here by my bed, waiting to say hello, whipping all these crazy interns and sniffling nurses into shape for me with your wit and charm...why do they all despise me so, Daniel, I'm a good guy, good little Colonel...ridiculous, saying I need you here, that I'm inflossible...implusable...that I'm no good without you. Yep, no good without you...Janet, you're fuzzy, fuzzy Janet, says Daniel's a-ok, Daniel's on his way, showering, here soon...good, everything's good now...knew he couldn't stay away from me, it's that old O'Neill charm, I'm better than a sacred cow anyday...

End!

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