CONTENT WARNINGS: Ah, just some swearing and cursing. Nothing much.


DISCLAIMER: This story is written entirely for entertainment and is not intended as an infringement against the copy written material that belongs solely to Showtime, MGM/UA, Gekko Films, et al. I'm only playing with their characters and will return them as soon as the story is finished. The following story is the property of the author and is not to be copied, or published without the express, written consent of the author. 


AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one is dedicated to Mary, my friend, with whom I've watched Foothold (or certain parts of it, VBEG) at least a dozen times. This story was written back in 2001.

TIMELINE: This is a tag to "Foothold", so season three.

RATING: T. You know, Jack and his mouth...

--00--00--

Ouch!

Colonel Jack O'Neill, the leader of the famous SG-1, almost jumped back up after trying to sit down behind his desk, in his office deep in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain. He tried again, slowly lowering himself onto the chair, leaning unwittingly more to his left side. His face grimaced, although if anybody had been watching, that person wouldn't have been able to tell whether the look on the Colonel's face was from pain, or annoyance. Probably it was a bit of both.

He had some reports to finish, decisions to make, SGC personnel to visit after the infiltration of the base by an alien race. General Hammond had left him in charge of the cleaning operation and had left the Mountain to visit his family.

Jack tried to summarize all the actions that had been initialised since the alien leader had activated the self-destruction device. A shiver ran over the Colonel's back, remembering the phrases and sounds the alien leader had made, directed to the humans present in the Control Room. It had all sounded very scary, but he also couldn't erase the image from his memory of the alien leader, resembling the incredible hulk, a television show he'd watched when he was a teenager.

Carter and Daniel were in the lab studying one of the four cloaking devices that had been taken from his alien twin, as well as the twin sister of Janet Fraiser he'd knocked down, and of alien Daniel and alien Major Davis.

He'd put Teal'c in charge of cleaning up the remnants of the aliens that died during the battle. Colonel Maybourne had authorization to transport one of the dead bodies to Area 51 for further examination, while one of the bodies would be subjected to some tests within the SGC as well.

Sergeant Siler had been ordered to change all access codes to the Mountain, both from outside as from off-world, plus all security checks within the base such as computer access codes and locks to storage and weapon rooms in order to make sure the aliens that had escaped would have no use of the information they'd gathered.

Dr. Fraiser was busy treating the injured; SGC-personnel that were zatted, knocked down or shot by either Teal'c during his escape or the Forces invading the base.

That left him two actions to consider. He'd talked it over with the General already, so he knew what to do. There was still a missing team out there, SG-6, and he needed to send a team to determine what was left of them. The Marines were already alerted and he expected them back from their downtime within four hours. He was supposed to wait for them, debrief them, then see SG-3 off on the rescue mission.

Last, but not least, they had the coordinates of the world the aliens gated to. It was not a comforting thought that there might be aliens out there, knowing too much about Earth, the SGC and the people they'd invaded. He was glad that Carter had actually shot the alien bastard that had stolen his identity; assuring him his private thoughts would stay private. Hammond had decided not to pursue the creatures until the base was cleaned up again. Plus, he wanted to wait until they had contacted their allies in order to gain more information on this new species.

Shifting slightly in his chair something stung him again. "Ow… for crying out loud," he muttered, quickly changing position. He tried to determine the source of the pain, wondering briefly if he'd fallen on something sharp when he'd opened up the alien suit that had him trapped high up in the air. He couldn't remember, however, and pushed the thoughts away. He had more important things to do right now.

The aliens. He needed to concentrate on the aliens. They needed to collect every bit of information they had and go through it, before they would contact the Tok'ra, the Asgard and the Tollan. Wincing once more at the stabbing pain that assaulted him every time he moved, he dragged his keyboard closer and started typing his report.

--00--00--

Colonel O'Neill wearily entered his house late that evening. He was feeling exhausted after having spent more than 48 hours hanging in that stupid alien outfit tied to the ceiling and another 24 hours of fighting the aliens off and cleaning up afterwards. The ride home hadn't improved his temper.

He'd been walking and standing the whole afternoon. After finishing his report, the sharp stabs of pain running through his body didn't allow him to sit anymore. He'd been too occupied with his job to really be bothered by it, but getting into his car, driving to his house and getting out had proved to be a rather painful experience.

Still cursing out loud, he climbed the stairs and headed straight to the bathroom. He needed a long hot shower to flush the smell of aliens from his body, but what he really wanted was looking in a mirror, so he could see what on Earth was wrong with his butt.

Heavily frustrated as he was by now, he dropped his clothes on the cold floor, stripped down to his briefs and headed to his bedroom. A man-high mirror covered one of his closet doors and Jack stepped in front of it, turning around with his back towards the mirror. He slid his briefs down, bending forward a little and peeked back in the mirror. He twisted and turned to get a better look, but he saw absolutely nothing out of order. No red spots, no swelling indicating insect bites, nothing at all that could explain the painful stings that hit him when he moved in certain directions.

Darn. He was an Air Force Colonel, dammit, and here he was, whining over an aching spot on his butt. He'd been shot, stabbed and tortured; he'd broken every bone he could possibly imagine and now he was getting grumpy over a little throbbing area on his bottom.

Jack slowly placed one hand on the tender area, probing with his fingers, his eyes locked on the mirror.

"Ouch!"

He jumped up when his fingers hit home and bit on his lip. He had no idea what possibly could cause it and after throwing one last look in the mirror, he dropped his briefs and irritably stamped towards the shower.

--00--00--

"Aaarrrrgghhh!"

Colonel O'Neill awoke for the umpteenth time that night, startled once again by a sharp pain. It resembled that of something piercing his skin whenever he tried to turn in his sleep.

He sat up, groaning, only to find that it didn't seem to be a good idea either, then got to his feet and stumbled downstairs. He was way beyond annoyance now; he was utterly pissed.

Tired as he was, Jack realized that sleep wasn't an option, however. He swung the fridge open, grabbed a beer and hastily removed the cap. Kicking the door of the fridge closed with his foot, he placed the bottle at his lips and sipped, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. He sighed heavily and, without thinking, he sat down on a chair near the kitchen table.

"Shit!" Another sting got him by surprise and he quickly got back to his feet. Wiping his forehead, he thought of calling Janet for a second, then shook his head. Now how would that look, huh, Jack, he thought. Phoning Janet in the middle of the night for a little stabbing in your butt… Get a grip. There's nothing wrong with your butt, a nasty insect or something has probably just stung you. Nothing to worry about, it will pass.

Right.

He emptied the bottle of beer and angrily threw it against the wall.

--00--00--

General Hammond sat at the head of the table in the briefing room, waiting for SG-1 to come in. Three members of the team in question came in and sat down on their regular spot, the fourth member leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

Hammond looked up, nodded his greetings to all of them, then threw a concerned look at his Second. Dark shades around the eyes, lips tightened grimly; O'Neill looked far from healthy and well rested.

"Colonel, are you all right?" he asked.

O'Neill shoved one hand in his pocket, attempted to appear as normal as could be, frowning deeply. "Me?" he asked. "Fine, Sir. Just a little tired."

Hammond pointed at the empty chair next to Dr. Daniel Jackson. "The why don't you sit down, Colonel. We'll try to make this as short as possible."

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I'd rather stand, Sir. My legs need some stretching after hanging like a spider in a web for over 48 hours."

Hammond frowned briefly, then continued with the briefing. "Okay, then. Your report, Colonel."

"Ah, yes, Sir," O'Neill started. "I'll start with the most important news. SG-3 has been able to locate SG-6. They reported back two hours ago. SG-6 appears to be perfectly healthy, though confused about what has happened to them. SG-3 has requested another 6 hours of exploration of the planet, to determine if anything is out of the ordinary. They should all be coming home this afternoon."

All people present in the room sighed out in relief. They'd all been worried about the missing team and were glad that they'd been found safe and sound.

"The alien bodies have been cleaned up. One has been transported by NID, another one is being kept in the freezer for further examination. St. Siler has successfully changed all codes and has provided everyone with the proper information. There's a sealed envelope with your set of new security codes on your desk, Sir," the Colonel continued. While talking he'd started pacing the room, not knowing what else to do.

Unaware of the stares he was receiving for walking around like that during a briefing, Jack picked up the file he'd brought with him from the table and handed it over to the General. "These are all the reports made up till now. I think Daniel or Carter can fill us in on their progress regarding the cloaking device," with that, the Colonel ended his report and took his position leaning against the wall again.

Hammond eyed him thoroughly. "Thank you, Colonel," he said, then addressed Major Carter. "Major, what have you found out?"

Carter sat up straight. "Well, Sir, basically, we came up empty handed. We do know how to operate the device, we do also know that it creates an image of the body that is hooked up in the alien chamber, that the head device is responsible for transforming the thoughts with the image, but how? I've come up empty handed, Sir," Sam looked apologetically at the General. "I need more time and someone with more experience in that field."

Hammond frowned, wondering about the next step. Deciding quickly, he gathered his files. "Dr. Jackson, please contact the Tok'ra and Tollan about this. Maybe they can be of assistance. Continue your study, Major. Good work, people."

With that, he stood, looking briefly over his shoulder. "Colonel… my office, please."

--00--00--

Hammond sat down behind his desk, while O'Neill closed the door behind him.

"Sit down, Colonel," he ordered. Whatever was bothering his Second, it was going to be solved.

He watched as the Colonel slowly sank into the chair opposite to his desk and his eyes didn't miss the grimace that appeared briefly on O'Neill's face before the man had control over himself again.

"Are you certain that you're all right?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

O'Neill shrugged him off, slightly annoyed. "Yes, I'm fine."

The General didn't buy it. "You don't look fine, Jack. Are you having trouble sleeping? You look like a ghost."

Jack did his best to hide that he was sitting mostly on his left butt cheek and fought hard to keep a straight face as something stung again. "Err, I didn't sleep well last night," he admitted.

Hammond nodded at the confession, although he had already guessed that. He knew from experience, however, that it would be hard to figure out why the Colonel had had trouble sleeping. It could basically be anything, nightmares about bad things that had happened to the man in the past, memories that were haunting him, pain he wouldn't admit having or nothing specific at all.

"Any specific reason?" he tried.

"Nope." As expected, the answer told him nothing.

"Do I need to order you to the infirmary?" Hammond demanded.

"Nope, I'm fine, Sir. Honest."

Hammond studied the man in front of him, knowing this wasn't going to get him anywhere. He sighed. "All right, then. I want you out of here by five. Make sure you get plenty of rest tonight."

"Yes, Sir." The Colonel managed to rise from his chair without gasping out loud, kept his face in order and turned to head to the door.

Hammond shook his head and watched him leave the office, determined to keep a close eye on his Second.

--00--00--

"Shit!" Cursing loudly, Colonel O'Neill got up early in the morning, after the third restless night.

Every time he tried to turn around in his bed, something sharp appeared to be digging deeper and deeper into his flesh. Whatever it was that had bitten him, it wasn't getting better at all.

He got up, angrily throwing the blankets away. He knew his mood was getting worse every minute this lasted and he couldn't stand it any longer. He positioned himself in front of the mirror once more, this time with a hand held mirror to better catch his reflection. Twisting and turning, he tried to get a good view but there was still no sign on his skin indicating anything amiss. Still he almost cried out when he pushed slightly with his fingertips on the troubled spot.

Damn.

O'Neill knew it was getting almost impossible to hide his discomfort from his friends. He also knew he had an upcoming mission in two days and he realized that he really had no other choice than to see Janet.

Oh, God, he was so embarrassed. He could picture himself sprawled over the bed, with Janet giggling…

Nah.

Janet would never giggle over him. Besides, she'd seen his butt on more than one occasion and had never said a word about it, so why was he so reluctant to go?

It was because he was uncomfortable with the whole situation. Bullet holes, staff weapon burns, radiation diseases; he could handle all of that shit. It was no fun, but there was a source of the problem, something causing the injury or sickness, something that could be pointed out, or blamed.

Now, he had nothing. He had no idea of what was going on and it could turn out to be nothing at all. Although he would think nothing wouldn't hurt that much. He felt terribly out of control, embarrassed that it was his butt that was hurting instead of some other, less humiliating part of his body and uncomfortable that he really, really needed to ask for help.

Did he really?

Shit. Yes, he did.

He remembered that he hardly had any excuses left to remain standing in every room. Carter was giving him these looks as if she could see straight through him. Daniel was keeping an eye on him despite the fact that he'd really said something not so nice to the linguist. He was sorry for that, but hey, he hadn't had a good night's sleep for ages and it did make him grumpy. Teal'c had remained silent, but he hadn't failed to notice that even the Jaffa was throwing some worried glances into his direction. Not to mention the effort it had cost him to stay out of General Hammond's sight. He'd spent all of this last afternoon expecting to be ordered to the General's office over the intercom, but luckily that hadn't happened.

Shit, shit, shit. Come on, O'Neill, he told himself. You've been through much worse than this, so don't be such a baby.

He was an Air Force Colonel, ex Special Forces and it would ruin his tough man's image. He would look stupid, feel stupid, feel embarrassed… oh, shit. Suck it up, Jack and get it over with.

All dressed up he ate his breakfast while standing in the kitchen, deciding to have a beer instead of coffee to go with it. It was a bit early for a beer plus it was really against regulations, but knowing what he had to do, he figured he needed one.

--00--00--

He arrived on the base, wanting to go directly to the infirmary, but diverted as Carter caught him and asked him to stop by the lab. Sighing, he thought another half an hour couldn't make it any worse, so he followed her, grabbing a coffee from the machine in the hallway to take along.

Daniel was seated behind the table, the cloaking device in front of him, the young archaeologist staring at it as if he'd just seen a world wonder.

Sam sat down next to Daniel and studied her CO thoroughly. She couldn't lay her finger on it, but something was wrong. The Colonel looked as if he had missed out on a lot of sleep for a starter, but also as if something was bugging him. She pointed at the only remaining chair in the lab.

"You look tired, Sir. Why don't you sit down?"

Daniel, alarmed by the concern in Sam's voice, looked up as well. "Yeah, Jack. What's wrong?"

Jack cursed inwardly. How long was he able to keep up with the act? "I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just tired…" With his coffee in his hand, he moved over to the chair, then got an idea.

He stumbled.

Apparently losing his balance, the Colonel staggered, attempting to stay upright and spilled all of his coffee over the one and only empty chair he just didn't want to sit on today.

Carter jumped up and rushed forward. She grabbed him by the arm to steady him. "Sir! Are you sure you're all right?"

He waved her off, feigning embarrassment. "Yeah… I'm fine, Carter. Sorry…" He sought support by leaning with his left hip against the table and ran a tired hand through his hair.

Daniel frowned. "I think you should go and see Janet, Jack," he opted.

Sam, in the meantime, had gathered some tissues and started wiping off the chair, although the material was soaked through. "Mmm, I need some water to clean this. Daniel is right, Sir. Maybe you should have Janet check you out."

Jack hesitated.

"Jack," Daniel urged, convinced that there was something wrong. "Come on, I'll take you."

Jack sighed. "All right, then. I was actually planning on going to see her. But you can stay here, Daniel. Knock yourself out over that thing. I'll be okay."

Daniel and Sam exchanged some looks. The Colonel was willingly going to pay Janet a visit? Sam turned to her CO. "Are you sure? We can take you there, Sir."

"Nah… thanks," the Colonel headed to the door to escape. "You kids just have fun."

--00--00--

Dr. Janet Fraiser looked up from her reports as Colonel O'Neill arrived in her office.

"Oh, hi, Colonel."

He gave her a faint smile and closed the door. She frowned. "Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?"

He nodded. "I need you to…" he hesitated and vaguely pointed somewhere low behind his back. "Something is…" he continued, not knowing how to say it out loud.

"What's wrong, Sir?" she asked, taking in his hesitation.

"There's something hurting me," he admitted, giving her one of his helpless faces, without telling her more.

Fraiser lifted her brows, alarmed by his behavior. Having him in here and admitting he was hurt was something unusual in the first place. "Can you be more specific, Sir?"

He pointed directly to the troubled area now, turning slightly so she could see. "Something is stinging me, here. Every time I move…" he explained, then threw his hands frustratingly in the air. "I can't see anything wrong, but it's there…"

Janet smiled, understanding his wavering now. She rose to her feet. "All right. Follow me, Sir. I'll have a look."

She took him to one of the examination rooms and closed the door. "Just lower your pants a bit and lean forward, Sir. I should be able to get a good look then." She wanted to make things as easy for him as she could; she could imagine how he felt right now.

Bending forward, she inspected the exposed skin. There was nothing wrong there, nothing one could see with bare eyes. Knowing the Colonel, however, she knew better. Her fingers ran gently over the soft skin, prodding slightly.

"Sorry," she mumbled, as he suddenly tensed, straightening his back in an attempt to pull away from her touch. "I can't see anything, Sir. I'll have to do an X-ray."

He looked over his shoulder, annoyed of the situation. "Do you really? It's probably nothing…" he complained, not wanting to go to the X-ray machine, with a nursing staff ready to giggle over him.

Janet thought for a while, then decided quickly. "I'll just get a portable one, Sir." She patted on the examination table. "Why don't you hop on here? I'll be back in a minute."

When she got back, the Colonel was lying on his stomach, his head buried in his arms. He'd even managed to pull a blanket over himself. She took the blanket away, positioned the machine and turned it on. "Let's get this over with, Sir."

Examining the X-ray, her face turned grim. She put the machine aside and moved over to show him the photo. "There's something in there, Sir. See? It's very small and it might have moved around, damaging some tissue. What the hell is that?"

"You tell me," the Colonel muttered.

Fraiser frowned. "Well, let's get it out. I'll give you a local anesthetic, so you won't feel anything, Sir." She gathered a syringe and expertly injected the fluid into his skin.

Sitting on a stool on wheels, using her scalpel, Janet started opening up the soft skin, moving deeper into the direction of the unknown object. It took her a while, as she didn't want to damage too much but finally she used a fine pair of tweezers to remove the object, dropping it on a plate. "Got it," she explained.

She finished her handiwork by cleaning the area, pouring some betadine over it and placed a butterfly strip on the small entry wound to close it up. Unconsciously, she wanted to pat the Colonel to let him know she was done, but, her hand hanging still just above his butt, she thought the better of it. "All set, Sir. You can get dressed now."

He did, while she cleaned up the mess before turning her attention to the tiny object on the plate. Lifting it up with the pair of tweezers, she studied it closely.

"Colonel," she asked, without looking up. "Who did your post-check up when you returned from your last mission?"

He turned around, pushing his shirt in his pants with one hand, frowning. "I don't know…" he started, thinking back at how they'd come back all wet. "That must have been nurse Mae's evil alien twin."

Fraiser nodded, remembering that it must have been one of the aliens.

"Why?" O'Neill wanted to know.

"Well," Fraiser started, still holding the pair of tweezers in her hand. "If I'm not mistaken, and I'm pretty sure that I'm not, this is a part of an injection needle. It must have broken off…"

"Oy…" the Colonel commented shortly.

"Mmm. At least it's out now, Sir. It will heal in a couple of days. You might experience some difficulty with sitting, though."

"Might??" O'Neill sneered. "Do you have any idea what excuses I have come up with over the last couple of days to stay standing in rooms filled with seated people?? I pretty much ran out of ideas, you know."

Janet looked up at the Colonel, realizing that he had indeed walked around with the needle stuck in his butt for some days now, and knowing the man pretty well, she was sure he'd used every bit of imagination to hide his discomfort. She suppressed a smile when she tried to think of the Colonel making all kinds of excuses to keep from sitting down, unwilling to let others in on his problem. Deciding to help him out a little, she grabbed the phone, dialed an internal number and motioned for O'Neill to remain quiet.

"General, this is Doctor Fraiser, Sir. I just wanted to inform you that I've sent Colonel O'Neill home, Sir. He seems to be coming down with a bit of the flu…. Yes, Sir, I told him that… Yes, I'll see to it. Bye, Sir."

She turned back to O'Neill. "I just bought you a couple of days off, Sir. Go home and get some rest. It looks to me that you need it."

Through his exhaustion she saw his eyes twinkle. "Thanks, Janet,"

"You're welcome, Sir." She watched him heading towards the door to leave. "A broken needle… Stupid nurse, what did she do, jam it in or something?" Janet mumbled, angry over the situation. She didn't look up, so she missed the slight blush that colored the Colonel's cheeks. She was too late to look at him as he stepped outside, his answer startling her, as she wondered what he meant.

"Yeah, and you know what really sucked? It still didn't get the water out of my ears…"

THE END


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