Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

I stand there, the sharp tang of ozone filling the air and stare like an idiot as the medics rush in, carrying their bags of supplies.

"Is anyone else hurt?" One of them asks, picking up Major Carter's wrist and checking her pulse. No, we're all fine. We kept our hands off the machinery when the fireworks started.

"We're all ok," General Hammond says. "How is she?" The concern he feels is plain in his voice and on his face. He obviously cares what happens to her. He acted the same way a couple of months ago when Teal'c was stuck in the gate.

The medic frowns. "Paul, check her pulse," he says, rolling her hands over. He frowns at the sight of a large burn on the palm of her right hand. "How much voltage was she exposed to?"

His question is greeted with silence and I look up as I realize that the general is looking at me. At a loss, I shake my head. He frowns and turns to the other men. "Sergeants?"

The technician also shakes his head. "We have no way of knowing for sure, sir. It was the feedback from the EM pulse generator." The medic grunts, obviously not happy with their answer.

"I might be picking up some irregularities," the second medic says, pulling the stethoscope from his ears.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Let's get her to the infirmary and on a monitor." They reach for the backboard they'd brought in and within a minute she's loaded onto it and strapped down. "Grab the end would ya?" One of them says, staring at me. I raise my eyebrows and he frowns a bit. "Yes, sir. Could you give us a hand?"

I step forward and pick up the board, really hoping that I don't lose my grip and dump her. Then she'll really be mad.

The medic leads me down the stairs and I see where his friend disappeared to. He's waiting with a gurney. "Thank you, sir," he says after they load her onto the gurney and start down the hall.

Not really wanting to return to the scene of the crime, I follow them, slightly surprised when they don't shoo me away. I don't want to be there right now. People are going to ask me questions that I can't answer.

It takes just a minute to reach level 21 and they push the gurney into the infirmary. I stand just inside the door, hoping to stay out of the way as a short woman bustles out of an office, her heels clicking on the cement floor.

"What happened?" she demands, pulling her stethoscope from around her neck as they slide Carter from the gurney to the bed.

"Electrical shock, unknown voltage. There's a wound on her right hand, but no exit wound that I can see. It could just be a contact burn. There's LOC, but we don't know if it's from the electricity or when she hit the floor. I may have detected a bit of an irregular heartbeat," he reports stepping back as the nurses step in.

"Ok," the doctor says. "Let's get her hooked up to an EKG and get her clothes off. I want to know if this is a full-fledged electrical shock or if she just caught the edge of it. I also want you to draw some blood and check her electrolytes."

One of the nurses pulls the curtain closed, shrouding the bed and I stand there, literally and figuratively shut out. I play their words over in my mind. Irregular heartbeat. Ok, I know that isn't good.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Yeah, I know the 'in awe of my intellect and charm' daydream was a bit much but…I wanted to impress her, not kill her.

"What happened?" I turn to see that Quinn fellow standing beside me. He's frowning a bit, craning his neck to peer into the infirmary. I hear a thunk and look to see one of her boots hit the floor, followed quickly by the other one.

"The EM generator didn't work. It caused a feedback and Major Carter was hurt," I tell him, hearing again her short cry when the electricity threw her backwards.

"You didn't kill her, did you?" he asks, his eyes going wide and his voice raising a decibel or two.

"What? No, no…at least I don't think so." What the hell kind of a question is that?

I hear a low muttering and the creak of the bed. "Sam. Sam, it's ok. You're in the infirmary, you're ok," the doctor says, obviously soothing a now conscious major.

"It's all my fault," I muttered, tuning out the conversation. "It was my idea," I say, turning to Quinn.

"Well, I'm sure they had to try something."

"There shouldn't have been feedback," I insist, shaking my head. "That didn't happen in any of the simulations." Damn stupid computers. What's the purpose in running simulations if real life throws you a curve? What's the good in achieving mathematical precision if there's always the variable of Murphy's Law?

"Real life doesn't always follow the simulation," Quinn says ironically.

"What was she thinking?" I ask him, feeling the anger build. "Putting her hand on that panel. Any idiot could have known that wasn't a smart thing to do," I rant. Ok, so maybe it's rude to blame the injured party. I mean, I knew it wasn't a smart thing to do, especially given the light show we were experiencing. Of course, that doesn't explain why I was standing there like an idiot while she dashed forward and got fried.

"What?"

"She had to close the iris. That's when…zap," I explain to him.

"Aah. The energy transfer level increased didn't it?"

"How do you know about that?" I try to remember. He wasn't in the control room…was he?

"Well, if the iris is all that's slowing the energy transfer and if it had to be open to allow the EM pulse to work, then it stands to reason that there would be an increased energy build-up during the experiment," he says, gesturing with his notebook. Why does he carry that thing around anyway? Was he a stenographer in a previous life?

"Yeah, that's what she said would happen," I say morosely. I can hear it now. 'I told you so, McKay. Good job, not only did your wise idea not work, you got the general's favorite whack job killed.' Somehow I don't think that ranks high on the list of 'how to win friends and influence people'.

"You don't…think she'll blame you or anything?"

"Why wouldn't she? This whole thing was my idea. She didn't even want to do it. I told them to open the iris. I had them fire the EM generator. If she hadn't have gotten the iris closed, we'd probably be dead by now," I tell him.

"Then I think she'll understand," he says. "Look," he continues obviously catching my look. "I've observed that the humans have this thing…duty. They…they do what needs to be done, sometimes regardless of how it will effect them. As long as the outcome is favorable, they accept the consequences…eventually."

I see General Hammond hurrying down the hall, and we both step aside. He acknowledges us with a glance and goes into the infirmary. "Doctor Fraiser?"

"General." I hear the woman walk towards the door. So that's who she is.

"How is she?" That concern is still in his voice and I wonder why he hasn't been down here already. Or why he didn't follow the medics down like I did. Then it hits me, he couldn't. Not until he knew for sure that the base wasn't in immediate danger. That's his duty, taking care of this base and the people assigned here. Just like it was hers to follow his orders and try my plan, even though she knew it wasn't going to work. Just like she said, it's her job to present the risks, not decide to take them. Except when it comes down to risking her life to carry out those risks she's ordered to take.

"She'll be fine, sir," the doctor reports. "She's a little groggy right now, and I want to monitor her for a bit longer, preferably overnight, just to be safe."

"I understand, doctor. But as soon as she's able, we need her help in the control room. If we can't get the gate shutdown…" His voice is regretful. He knows what he's asking. She's injured but he can't give her the time to get better. Because we don't have that much time. He can't just think of one person, he's got to think of this whole base, heck, the whole planet.

"General," the doctor starts to protest.

"Can I help?" I find myself stepping forward, not even realizing what I'm doing. They both turn to face me, I think they've forgotten that I'm even here. Wouldn't be the first time that ever happened. "Maybe I can work on it until she's feeling better," I suggest, inwardly readying myself for rejection. It wouldn't surprise me if Hammond orders me out of the mountain. Much to my surprise, he nods.

"Thank you, Doctor McKay." He turns to Doctor Fraiser.

"I'll send her down as soon as she's able, sir," she relents, obviously picking up on the seriousness of the situation.

The general gestures with his hand and I proceed him from the room. Quinn catches me at the door. "I would avoid Colonel O'Neill if I were you," he advises.

The general walks on past me, headed towards the elevators. "What?" I ask Quinn.

"Just give her teammates a wide berth for a while, at least until they know for sure that she's ok," he says.

Still not quite sure what he's talking about, I just nod. Maybe it's some alien thing? "Doctor?" I look to see General Hammond standing in the hall, giving me an impatient look.

"Yes, sir." I trot to catch up with the man. I don't want to go back down there. I don't want to face the accusations I'm sure to see on their faces. It's no secret that Carter is well liked around here while I am definitely the outsider. And the outsider that got one of their own hurt is probably not going to be very popular, especially since my plan bombed.

But, with Carter out of commission, I am the only one who might come up with a solution. It would really suck if Earth were destroyed because I let a few nerds intimidate me. Besides, I figure if Carter can get herself electrocuted to save the planet, I can tolerate a few dirty looks.

~Fin~

Feedback: sky_diver119@yahoo.com

HOME