‘Today is a good day,’ thought Jack O’Neill as he strolled jauntily down the corridor towards Dr Fraiser’s office at the Air Force Academy Hospital. Janet was helping out the doctors there, following an outbreak of flu amongst the staff.

Jack flexed his right hand, and was pleased with the complete lack of pain or stiffness. The cast had been removed three weeks ago, and x-rays had shown the break to his right forearm had healed perfectly. He’d just completed his last physiotherapy appointment, and now all he had to do was obtain Janet’s signature in order to return to active duty.

No sweat.

Janet had promised to meet him down in the Outpatients’ Clinic, but when, after a half hour wait, she hadn’t turned up he had come to the assumption that she had probably become involved in an emergency.

Call him fussy, but Doc was his Doc, and she would sign him fit for duty, or no one would. And especially not that young greenhorn they’d drafted in to hold the fort at the SGC, whilst Fraiser ran herself into the ground here doing the jobs of three sick colleagues.

“I could run the checks on your arm, Colonel,” the duty nurse down in Outpatients had said, helpfully. Whilst practically undressing him with her eyes. Yee Gods! Beating a hasty retreat, Jack had gone in search of the safety of Fraiser’s office.

She was bound to turn up there as some point.  He had been on restricted duties for too long, and was keen to get back to off world missions. There was no way on this planet that he was going to leave this hospital without her signature on the duty form.

Nosirreeyabetcha.

So here he was making his way down the quiet corridor of the administration level, his plan to make himself at home in Janet’s office and build a castle out of tongue depressors until she made an appearance.

He reached her office and whistled softly to himself as he knocked briefly on the door just to check there was no one inside.  When there was no response he grasped the door handle, swung the door open, and stepped inside without a thought in his head except the tune to ‘Dixie’, and his forthcoming attempt on the tongue depressor castle-building world record.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene in front of him. 

Janet was sitting in one of the straight backed visitors’ chairs, the ones he always complained about as being too uncomfortable, and she looked terrified.  The reason for her terror was standing behind the chair.  Jack recognised him immediately as Major Griff and he had a handgun aimed straight at him.

Without uttering a single word, or allowing Jack to make any kind of move, Griff squeezed the trigger and Jack felt something slam into his chest. Hard.

The last thing he registered was Janet’s eyes widening in shock and horror, as the force of the bullet lifted him off his feet and slammed him back against the toughened glass of the door.  He crumpled to the floor and everything went black.

*

Janet wanted to scream but for some reason she couldn’t make any noise.  Colonel O’Neill was lying on the floor of her office in a expanding pool of blood and she was frozen in her chair, catching her breath in short, sharp rapid gasps.

Griff grabbed hold of her shoulder and rested the smoking gun on her cheek.  She could smell the cordite and thought she would gag. But it was the cold menace of the metal caressing her face that frightened her the most. She tried hard to calm herself. The Colonel needed her to gain some control of the situation.

“Now, Doc.  See what happens when you don’t do as I ask?”

She recovered her senses and pulled away from the feel of the gun.  “Please, Major.  Let me go to him.”  She struggled to keep her voice calm and tried not to plead.  She had already learned that Griff wasn’t receptive to begging.

After what seemed like an age he finally let go of her shoulder, and she took it as permission to move to O’Neil’s aid.

Her heart was pounding, and she felt that she wanted to rush to O’Neill’s side, but she forced herself to take it slowly, to do nothing that would startle or upset Griff who had already proved himself mightily unstable. She stood up and made her way over to where Jack was sprawled. And knelt down beside him.

Praying it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

It soon became clear that, if anything, it was worse.

He wasn’t conscious but she could feel his chest moving under her exploratory hands, as he struggled to draw oxygen into his lungs. His pulse was weak and thready.

Assured that he was still with her, she turned her attention to the damage to his chest.   The bullet had entered high up on the right-hand side.  From the tiny flecks of blood she could see on his lips it was obvious that a lung had been compromised, but she didn’t know how badly and what other hidden internal damage might have been caused.  She ran her fingers lightly down his back and encountered yet more blood and, upon lifting his shirt and jacket, she located the gaping exit wound.  It was lower down his back than the entry wound and she knew from this that the bullet would have deflected off something and travelled down and out of his body.

“Will he live?” 

Janet jumped. She’d been concentrating so much on Jack that she hadn’t heard Griff move up behind her.

“He needs immediate medical help.”  Janet willed herself to turn and look at.  “He’ll die if he doesn’t get it.”

Griff twisted his face into a cruel sneer.  “He’s *getting* immediate medical help. You’re here. You should be able to save him.  After all, you seem to enjoy playing God with people’s lives.”  He waved the gun in Jack’s direction.  “Or maybe I should just put him out of his misery, right now.” 

Janet moved quickly to put herself between her patient and Griff.  “No!” She felt herself beginning to panic again, and took a deep calming breath. Get a grip on yourself, Fraiser, she told herself. You cannot lose your focus here. “Major, this is Colonel O’Neill we’re talking about.  He doesn’t deserve this.”

Griff glowered at her.  “Cut the sob story, Doc.”  He moved around her and looked down at O’Neill.  “Besides, he probably knew what you had planned for me so maybe he deserved this.”

Janet’s shoulders slumped.  Griff was wrapped up in his own little paranoid fantasy world, and she’d already spent two hours trying to get through to him without success before Colonel O’Neill had inadvertently joined her nightmare. 

It was obvious that Griff had been given the news of his medical discharge from the Marines, and to say he hadn’t taken it well was an understatement.  He had been under psychiatric care for almost four months following a disastrous mission which had resulted in the loss of two of his team members.

The whole team had been captured by Yu and held for almost a month before the Tok’ra had aided in their escape.  But the damage had been done to the surviving members of the team who had witnessed two of their team-mates tortured to death. And both Mackenzie and Fraiser had deemed the two survivors unfit for duty.  It hadn’t been a light decision, as Griff and his team had been an exemplary unit of the SGC force until then.  But Griff’s present actions just proved how right the recommendation had been. Certainly in his case.  He had been on the edge. Now he had toppled over it and Jack had just paid the price.

There was a low moan and to her horror, Janet realised that Jack was struggling to regain consciousness.   Ignoring Griff, she rested her hand on his arm and watched as his eyes began to flutter open.

“Sir?”  She moved closer to him.

He shifted slightly and Janet could almost feel his pain.  He coughed deeply and fresh bubbles of blood appeared on his lips.  His breathing became more laboured and she knew she had to move him into a semi-reclining position (at least) to stop him (from) drowning in his own blood.

She looked around for Griff and found that he had retreated to the other side of the room.  Turning back to Jack, she moved her arms to grab hold of him under the arms. 

“Sir, I know this is going to hurt but I need you to sit up.” 

His pain-filled eyes rested on her, dazed, and slightly out of focus.  “Doc…..”  He could barely talk. And she could hear an unhealthy gurgling sound within his chest as he tried to draw air into lungs that were filling with fluid. His eyes rested on her, and she saw an increasing comprehension of what had happened as his head cleared and the initial shock receded.

“Sir, please try to sit up for me.”  She was rewarded with him trying to feebly push himself up and she took the majority of the weight to help him.  After a couple of minutes, she had him sitting up and leaning against the door of her office.  It was then she heard movement in the corridor.  In a silent prayer, she hoped that someone had raised the alarm.

She felt a momentary flash of relief; until Jack coughed again.

“Janet.”  His voice sounded wet and yet more blood was appearing on his lips.  “Can you sign…..me…..off for….active duty?” 

She looked at his arm, now free of its cast, and shook her head sadly.  “No can do, Colonel.  Not until I see the x-rays.”  She managed a small smile and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.  “Maybe then.”

She looked into his brown, hurt-filled eyes, and tried to convey some feeling of comfort. But she knew he was in a great deal of pain. And that he was an experienced career soldier. He knew about things like this. Knew about wounds like this. Knew that soon, sitting up or lying down, it would make no difference. Knew that, if he didn’t get the help he needed, the chances were that he would eventually drown in his own blood.

With a deep breath, Janet squeezed his hand, and then she forced herself to get to her feet and walk slowly towards Griff.  “Major?”

He stopped pacing and looked at her.  “What now?”

She indicated to the examination room at the back of her room, behind him.  “I need some supplies to help Colonel O’Neill.”

With a wave of his gun, he gave her permission and she hurried into the small room, emerging quickly with an armful of medical supplies which she took straight back over to where Jack was sitting.  She was also aware that Griff was again hovering behind her.

Jack’s eyes were closed again but as soon as she ripped open the first package of dressing, they drifted open again. 

“Doc.”  His voice was barely a whisper.

She smiled reassuringly.  “Hey, Colonel.”  She took the first dressing and pressed it down against the entry wound.  He hissed in pain and that resulted in another bout of coughing.  Janet ignored the spray of blood that landed on her blouse. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I need to slow down the bleeding.”  She secured the dressing with tape and then took another dressing and applied it to the exit wound.  She then went to insert an IV port but her arm was grabbed by Griff. 

“No more.”

Janet tried to pull her arm away but he held onto her tighter, dragging her away from her patient.  She struggled against him but Griff took his gun and held it threateningly against her temple.  “I *said* no more.” 

She froze, holding her breath. 

*

As soon as it had been reported that a gunshot had been heard from within Dr Janet Fraiser’s office, Colonel Briggs had jumped into action. 

Following procedures, he had cleared the entire floor –  which hadn’t been too difficult because the majority of the floor consisted of infrequently used administrative offices, anyway.  He had then placed MPs at all the access points, making sure they were concealed from sight before conferring further with his superiors.

The first question asked had been, how many people involved?  Briggs had been unable to answer that.  One thing he did know for sure was that someone was hurt.  No one could have missed the starburst blood-splatter pattern that adorned the frosted glass in the door.

*

“It will be so good to get back out on missions again.”  Sam Carter joined Daniel and Teal’c at one of the tables in the commissary.  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s been great to get the time to catch up with lab work but I’m beginning to get itchy feet.”

She smiled as Teal’c automatically glanced down at her boots.  “Don’t worry, Teal’c.  It’s a figure of speech.”

Daniel slurped his coffee and then sat back in his chair.  “Well, I’ve researched our next planet and hopefully, following this afternoon’s briefing, and Jack’s clearance for active duty, we’ll be going off world tomorrow morning.”

*

“We’ve got business to finish.”  Griff’s voice was low and menacing. 

Janet stopped struggling and allowed herself to be dragged back to the chair she had previously occupied.  “Please, Major.”

Griff shook his head.  “Not a chance, Doc.  Remember what I said about begging?” 

She slumped back, biting her lip, knowing it was useless.  Griff had somehow decided that it was her decision, and her’s alone, that had resulted in his medical discharge; and, in his warped mind, he wasn’t going to walk out of the office unless she reinstated him. 

She had tried to reason with him but his behaviour had become more and more unpredictable, and when she had relented, and said she would revoke his medical discharge, he had naturally refused to believe her.  If he hadn’t been so obviously mentally disturbed, she would have become frustrated.  She had been unable to see any way out of the situation, he was beyond reasoning with.  But now it had become an urgent matter of life and death.  Not for her, but for Colonel O’Neill.

She hadn’t realised the Griff had been rambling until he slammed his hand down on her desk, making her jump.

“Listen to me!”

He moved forward and grabbed hold of her chin, yanking her head round to look at her.  “Forget O’Neill!  Concentrate on me!”

His fingers digging into her face were painful but she willed herself to stay calm.  “I’m listening.”  She whispered, as his clamped fingers fractionally relaxed their vice-like hold on her jaw. She didn’t want to antagonize him further.

Griff sneered at her.  “Listening.  You’re very good at that, aren’t you.  You listen, then twist it until it’s to your liking and then use it against us.”  He let go of her face and instead wrapped his hand around her throat, moving his face closer to hers.  “And until you admit your recommendations were wrong, and have them retracted, we are going to sit here and watch Colonel O’Neill bleed to death.”

*

Hammond could hear SG1’s voices as he put the telephone down, and he looked through the window to see them enter the briefing room, right on time for their pre-mission briefing.

His was mind running through the telephone call he had just received. As he watched absently Daniel went to stand at one end of the table to prepare his briefing, whilst Teal’c and Sam discussed something that had caught their interest in one of the files.

With a sigh, General Hammond got to his feet, knowing the news that he was about to deliver to them would be tough.  Dr Fraiser was one of their closest friends and to hear what he had to say would hit them hard.  Counting to three inside his head, he left his office and stepped into the briefing room.

“Sir.”  Sam made to get to her feet as he appeared but he indicated for her to remain seated.  As he took his seat at the head of the table, he realised that Jack was absent.

“Where’s Colonel O’Neill?”

Daniel turned his attention from his briefing notes.  “He hasn’t arrived yet, General.”

“He had an appointment at the Academy Hospital this morning with Dr Fraiser to be cleared for duty.”  Sam stressed.  “There was probably a delay.”

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, and the expression on his face alerted SG1 to the fact that something was seriously wrong.

After a few seconds he regained his neutral expression and looked at Sam.  “What time was the Colonel’s appointment at the hospital?”

“I don’t know exactly, sir.  I just know he was going there this morning.”  Her voice was hesitant as she recognised Hammond’s concern.

Hammond cleared his throat and began to tell them what he had just learnt about the events at the Academy Hospital.

*

Briggs listened silently to the voice at the other end of the telephone line and then disconnected the call, before turning to his second in command, Lieutenant Jameson.

“We may have a possible ID on the man’s voice.” 

Jameson gave a brief nod.  A witness had already reported hearing a male voice.  “Who, sir?”

Briggs frowned.  “Colonel Jack O’Neill.  He hasn’t reported for duty as expected this afternoon at Cheyenne Mountain, and he was scheduled for an appointment with Doctor Fraiser this morning.”  He thought for a moment.  “I’ve heard the name but I can’t place it.”  Unable to put a face to the name, he turned his attention back to the end of the corridor….and the grimly bloodstained door.

*

In the stillness of the room, O’Neill’s painfully laboured fight for every breath was overwhelming Janet.  With tears in her eyes, she focused on the Colonel from across the room as if trying to will him the strength to keep breathing.  The ‘golden hour’, when a patient with a critical wound would have the best chance of survival, had long since passed and now with every breath a little more of him died. 

And there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

Griff had fallen silent and was now sitting on the floor, cradling his handgun to his chest and occasionally muttering to himself.  Janet had already tested his alertness by moving slightly in a her chair, and had learned immediately that he was more aware of his surroundings than she had hoped, as she looked down the long dark tunnel of the gun barrel.

She clung to the hope that someone had heard the gunfire.

That help was somehow coming.

*

This was probably one of the worst hostage scenarios that Briggs could envisage, and he gave a small shake of the head.

After the gunfire had been heard from inside the office, a member of the staff had reported hearing male and female voices.  The female voice had been identified as belonging to Doctor Janet Fraiser, but the male voice of the possible attacker remained unidentified.  The witness had then gone on to recall some of the words overheard and it had become clear that a third party was involved. That placed three people inside the office.  Surveillance had revealed nothing.  Snipers reported they were unable to get a view inside the office as the blinds were drawn and the team in the corridor were unable to get closer to the office because the glass door meant they were easily visible to anyone in the room.  Contact by telephone had proved fruitless as the line had been disconnected after the first ring.

Now Briggs had to deal with Colonel O’Neill’s colleagues who had arrived only moments ago from the Cheyenne Mountain base, each with their own opinions on the situation which they weren’t shy at voicing.

It was a very bad day.

*

Janet watched in dismay as Jack’s eyes flickered open yet again, and she knew she had to do something. 

His eyes were dull and flat, and she could almost see the life slowly draining out of them. Blood was soaking through the bandage she’d applied to the front of his chest, blood he couldn’t afford to lose. Although, the blood Fraiser was most worried about was that which was leaking into his lungs. It made his breathing sound hideously bubbled, with each painfully strained inhalation; all of which were then echoed by an grimly, drawn-out, frothing exhalation.

Blood, in a shocking crimson lather, coated his lips with every agonising continuation of the process of staying alive.

His eyes closed as a furrow of pain carved itself between them. His face was sheened with a coating of clammy sweat. And graven lines around his mouth showed up dark against the unhealthy paleness of his skin.

Fraiser knew she was watching a man die. Slowly. Raspingly. Hauntingly. In terrible pain.

Gradually he was losing the fight. Because the energy he needed to battle on, in his clawingly desperate search for oxygen, was becoming harder and harder to find.

And Fraiser just couldn’t carry on any more.

She couldn’t just sit there and watch him die.

Every conceivable scenario had flashed through her mind in the last couple of hours, and she had dismissed all of them as equally hopeless.  She knew that Griff would never let her walk out of the office under her own steam, and that he was more than willing to let Colonel O’Neill bleed to death in front of her.  She had already reasoned with herself that Cassie would be okay with Sam if anything happened to her. 

And so, as she sat there, Janet formulated what could only be described as a despairing, almost suicidal, plan.

Then, without allowing herself any further thought, she launched into action.

*

The hysterical screaming came out of the blue and everyone in the vicinity of the office froze.

“What the hell?”  Briggs was the first to react and his eyes swivelled to the glass fronted door, where movement could now be clearly seen. 

As gunfire erupted from inside the office, he shouted into his radio.  “Go!”

With that single command, his team moved forward together and the office door imploded.

It seemed as if everything was being acted out in total confusion, with screaming and shouting filling the air. 

Then the gunfire stopped.

From the end of the corridor, where they had struggled to stay put,  Daniel and Sam exchanged looks of absolute horror.  Everything had happened so fast.  One moment, there had been rational discussion of how to resolve the situation and then it had all gone to hell in a hand-basket.

The shouting stopped.

Daniel thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest because it was beating so hard.

The screaming stopped.

Sam tried to swallow but her throat was too dry.

Then came the shout for medical teams.

Teal’c gently moved his team-mates to the side of the corridor to allow the medics access.

*

With Griff sprawled on the floor, his hands and feet cuffed, Briggs turned his attention to the small woman who sat on the floor violently shaking.  In her hair were chunks of plaster she had been showered with when the bullets hit the ceiling. 

“Dr Fraiser?” 

She didn’t respond.

“Dr Fraiser.  Are you injured?”

Her eyes snapped open and without a word to him, she leapt to her feet and pushed past him. 

The medics had now entered the room and had already targeted their patient.  She joined him and Briggs could only watch in amazement as the distressed persona vanished.

“This is Colonel Jack O’Neill.”  She looked at the medic in charge.  “He received a gunshot wound to his upper right chest four hours ago.  There is an exit wound slightly lower than the entry wound and a lung has been compromised….”

That was all Briggs heard before he turned his concentration back to the prisoner and began to try and figure out what the hell had happened.

*

A long day turned into a long night for everyone involved in the hostage situation.

Jack had been rushed straight through into surgery where the fight had begun to save his life.

SG1 had taken up residence in one of the surgical waiting rooms, refusing to leave until they heard news.

Sam had attempted to find out where Janet was, but she had been informed by a Lieutenant Jameson that Janet was being debriefed.  Sam had requested to sit in on the debrief but was in turn told that General Hammond was with the doctor.

Cassie had arrived at the end of the school day and joined SG1.  She was anxious for news of her mom and Jack.

*

Just after 8pm Janet, along with General Hammond, entered the waiting room.  Cassie flew out of her chair and enveloped her mom in a hug.  Janet reciprocated the hug, clinging to her daughter for strength.

Seeing SG1’s need for knowledge, Hammond led them over to the other side of the room, leaving Janet and Cassie to have little time together.

“Sir?”  Sam tried to keep her voice even.  “Is there word on the Colonel?”

Hammond nodded grimly.  “The latest from the surgical team is that he’s still hanging on in there.  The bullet caused massive damage and, coupled with the blood loss, it’s an uphill battle but one that the Colonel and the doctors seem to be winning at the moment. They’re finishing up now and he will be transferred to the Intensive Care Unit when he comes out of surgery.”

He hesitated before continuing.  “Major Griff has been moved to a high security psychiatric unit for assessment.”

Nobody said a word.  As angry and frustrated as they were at the situation, the blame couldn’t be laid at Griff’s feet.  Everyone had underestimated the impact of the Goa’uld imprisonment.

Daniel looked across at Janet and Cassie, and then back at the General.  “What happened?”

“Major Griff was trying to ‘persuade’ Doctor Fraiser to declare him fit for duty when Colonel O’Neill walked in on the scene.  Major Griff shot him without any warning.” 

“But what happened at the end?  All that screaming?  Are you sure Janet is okay?”

Hammond gave a wry smile.  “Doctor Fraiser had figured that she wasn’t going to come out of the situation alive but she was damned if she was going to watch the Colonel bleed to death on the floor.  So she decided to go with a fight.  Instead of trying to sneak up on Major Griff, she decided on a highly unusual tactic.  She launched at him: screaming, cursing, fists flying.  She hit him low with tackle, and he fired all his bullets into the ceiling as he went down.  Then the cavalry arrived.”  He shook his head in disbelief.

The rest of them looked at Janet in complete shock.

*

Jack remained deeply unconscious for three days in the ICU at the Air Force Academy Hospital. 

During that time, he was never alone.

While he slept, his body began to heal and, with the aid of transfusions, his blood volume was gradually restored.  He remained on a respirator to allow his damaged body time to rest and recover from the trauma of the gunshot wound and ensuing surgery.

Daniel read Egyptian mythology to him while he slept because it was the only time he could without having to listen to Jack’s smart assed comments. And he also secretly hoped that some of what he read might sink into Jack’s unconscious mind. He was still waiting for the day when Jack woke up murmuring some obscure fact Daniel had read to him whilst he slept.

Teal’c recounted his great battles as Apophis’ prime Jaffa.

Sam described how she was lovingly restoring a vintage motorcycle.

Cassie rambled on and on about how life was tough for a teenager and why people just *didn’t* understand.

Janet was the only one who remained silent as she sat at his bedside, clutching his hand as if to provide more comfort for herself than for him.

*

As Daniel would later say, it was a typical Jack O’Neill awakening.

He had been sitting quietly at Jack’s bedside writing his journal when Jack’s eyes had snapped open and the alarms had started sounding on the medical equipment.  But in the time it had taken for the forgotten journal to hit the floor, the alarms had silenced as Jack had taken in the situation.

His hand had moved to his mouth and was pointing at the tube.  Daniel shook his head.  “Sorry, Jack, but it needs to stay there for the time being.”

Jack’s hand fell back down to his side but his eyes remained open.

Daniel rested his hand on the bed rail.  “Everything’s okay, Jack.”  He detected movement in the doorway and looked up to see Janet arrive, alerted by the nurses.

“Sir?”  Janet moved to the other side of the bed.  From the bed Jack’s eyes left Daniel and moved to focus of Janet, the question although unsaid was clear in his eyes.  Janet gave a small smile.  “I’m fine, sir.  Unhurt.  Major Griff was also unhurt.” 

Jack moved his head in a semblance of nod and then drifted back off to sleep.

Daniel grinned at Janet.

*

A week later, Jack was off the respirator and in a private room, dealing with an endless stream of visitors until the nurses moved in and placed a temporary ban on anyone further dropping by, to allow him time to rest.

Janet, naturally, was excluded from the ban.

Which was why she found herself standing in the doorway to his room, watching him sleep.

Except he wasn’t asleep.

“Hey, Doc, either come on in, or go watch some other poor medical mishap …you’re creating a draught.”   He cracked an eyelid open and surveyed her with a quiet smile.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, before slowly walking over to the bed.

“How are you feeling?”  Her voice was soft as she took a seat at his bedside.  “And that’s not a medical question.”

He grinned at her.  “I’m doing good, Doc.  Still hurts a bit to breathe, but nothing I can’t be macho about.”  He pressed a button on the side of bed and raised the bed head to a semi-reclining position.

“So, how are *you* feeling?”  He looked straight at her.

She fiddled with her hands in her lap, avoiding his eyes.  “I’m fine, sir.”

“Really?”  He raised an eyebrow.  “You could have fooled me.”

For that he got a half-smile. 

He sighed.  “What’s the matter, Janet?”

“I sat there and let you suffer for too long.  I should have reacted sooner.  I should have ended it sooner.” 

“And you could have been killed.  I could have been killed.”  Jack shook his head.  “Don’t ever second guess, Janet.  It’ll only drive you nuts.  Hell, why didn’t I pick up on Major Griff’s instability?  Why didn’t we know he was going to do what he did?  We already knew he wasn’t fit for duty any more.”  He sighed again.  “Janet, understand this.  Nobody died.  Isn’t that the best result?  Don’t beat yourself up.  Promise me?”

She smiled again.  “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir, what?”

“Yes, sir. I promise, sir.”

Jack grinned and laid back against the pillows, and closed his eyes.  “Besides, I need to thank you for saving my life, and for introducing me to the hysterical lunatic routine.’ He cracked an eyelid open in Fraiser’s direction. “I’ve already made a note to make sure I get Carter to practice it, in case we need to use it off world. Wanna give her lessons?”

He was rewarded with a playful punch on the arm.

“Ow!” He opened his eyes wide in innocence. “What? What?”

THE END.