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TITLE: L is for Learning
AUTHOR: Aelfgyfu
BETA READER:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dudethemath
RATING: PG
WARNING: language (mild swearing)
CATEGORY: Gen, epilogue (to "Prototype")
WORD COUNT: way too many—I mean 1529
CHARACTERS: Cameron Mitchell, Daniel Jackson, Carolyn Lam
SPOILERS: "Prototype" and a little for the previous episode, "Babylon"
The infirmary hummed quietly—not at all the level of noise Cam would have expected with every bed in sight filled. He wanted noise—something, anything to pull him back from remembering how the whole mission went to hell from the moment he pushed what he thought was just a damned light switch. The low voices and occasional groan acted as a soundtrack to his mental replay of everything that happened after Khalek fell out of the stasis pod, every wrong choice he'd made, every opportunity he'd missed. He still felt dizzy from being thrown into a wall, but vertigo and nausea weren't enough to distract him.
"You need this bed," Cam tried when the doctor finally reached him. "You don't need to have me laying around the infirmary when you got all these seriously injured people."
He wasn't sure if she actually corrected him to "lying" before Lam looked up from his chart, or if his concussed brain just imagined that bit.
"Nice try, Colonel," the doctor told him humorlessly. "You need this bed as much as anyone else in this area, and more than the people I've let go. You're staying here, under observation, until tomorrow morning."
"Hey, I was in good enough shape to shoot the bad guy!" Was he trying to convince her, or trying to convince himself he'd done enough?
"I heard that Khalek stopped your bullets, and it was Dr. Jackson's that took him out." He got the hint of a smile this time, which normally would have cheered him.
Cam went through the motions of playing along with humor. "Naw—once Jackson hit him the first time, he couldn't stop me any more. Landed every shot, right in his chest."
"Chest?" Lam looked genuinely surprised, even lowering his chart. "You were at point-blank range against a nearly ascended being, and you didn't take a head shot?"
Huh. She had a point there, Cam had to admit. Then again, Jackson hadn't gone for the head, either. And why was the doctor asking him this?
"When did you get to thinking so military?" he blurted.
Lam narrowed her eyes at him, and he just raised his hands in surrender.
"You got me," he said. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't want to argue either. "I'll spend the night." There ought to be some good joke there, with a doctor that pretty, but his battered brain wouldn't supply it.
"Good," the doc answered. She still looked suspicious, but she made a couple more notes on his chart, then handed it to a nurse before moving on to another bed.
"Hey," a voice said to his other side, and Jackson was standing right there. "I was gonna see if you needed a ride home, but I guess not."
Cam frowned at Jackson. How long had the man been standing there? How'd he miss him? Jackson frowned back. Did he come to chew Cam out? No, he'd been talking about driving him home.
Cam went to rub the back of his head, but he stopped immediately. A touch hurt even through his hair. "You're offering me a ride?" he reiterated, trying to be sure he'd heard right.
"Not after I heard you're spending the night."
"I heard about what you said to Woolsey," Cam told him.
Jackson just frowned at him some more. Cam really ought to give up on this conversation and get some sleep. He might have exaggerated his readiness to go back on active duty after the whole bonding-with-Sodan-warriors thing anyway, and the concussion wasn't doing him any favors.
"Which bit did you hear?" Jackson asked before Cam got any farther in his thoughts. "The bit where I said that Khalek was dangerous? That the IOA didn't understand the risks?"
Shut up! his injured brain screamed, but his mouth said, "The bit where you wouldn't forgive him."
"Oh. Did I say that?" The scholar shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking down at the infirmary sheets for a moment, then back at Cam's face. "Or, more to the point, did Woolsey tell you I did?"
"You know how it is. Somebody overheard it, and he told somebody else, and he told—"
Jackson nodded impatiently, cutting off what could have been a long recitation.
"Okay. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Or maybe I should have made sure we were both in the elevator first, so the whole base wouldn't know. I don't see what that has to do with giving you a lift."
"You're angry at Woolsey because he tried to stop you closing the barn doors, but half the horses were already out."
The disgust on Jackson's face should have been funny. "Am I going to get farm metaphors from you like I get sports metaphors from Jack?"
Cam couldn't keep up. "What?"
"Never mind. Can you get to the point, or should I come back when you can think?"
Cam could hear a hint of acid in Jackson's tone, but he wasn't sure it was aimed at him. He really, really ought to tell Jackson to come back tomorrow, but he didn't know how he could sleep with all this hanging over him.
"I pushed the button. I authorized bringing the guy here."
"Landry had to sign off on that—"
"I should have suggested the Alpha Site. I had my boots on the ground; Landry just didn't belay my order to bring him here. We should never have brought him to Earth. And when he blew up the monitor all over Altman and busted free, I should have emptied my whole clip into him." Cam had enough control to keep his voice low in the crowded infirmary, but just barely.
Jackson waited a moment, then blew out some air between his lips. "You done?"
"Two men died, another's probably paralyzed from a spinal injury, we have two TBIs, and a bunch of lesser injuries! I could have prevented all this."
"Yeah," said Jackson. "And so could I, by putting him right back in that pod, or shooting him on 584. Or Teal'c could have done it. Or Sam. Do you blame us too?"
What was Jackson thinking? "I was the one in charge. And I screwed it up first. How can you blame Woolsey and not me?"
Jackson actually sat on the edge of Cam's narrow infirmary bed. He looked tired, Cam realized. Not just one-day tired, but years-tired.
"You were right, back at the start. I pushed a button; you pushed a button." The corners of his mouth turned up just a little. He looked at Cam out of the upper part of his glasses, his head down a bit. "You have no idea how many wrong buttons I pushed when I was a new guy, but we were all new guys then."
Jackson didn't stop there. He seemed to be warming to the topic; his hands came off the bed and started waving in the air. "You screwed up. So did I. So did we all. But Woolsey thought he knew better than we did. You never thought that. Woolsey sat behind bulletproof glass while you were right there in the room with Khalek."
Cam had his mouth open, waiting for words to come out to answer Jackson somehow, but the other man continued, "And you shook off a concussion and provided the distraction I needed to get in there and land a bullet."
Jackson let his hands fall onto the bed again, shrugging a little. Cam didn't let on that the slight impact bothered his head.
"And now you're learning, if you hadn't before, that you can't really shake off a concussion. And you learned something about pushing buttons: namely, don't." Jackson stood.
"So if you're asking if I forgive you"—and Cameron wasn't asking, he didn't dare—"then yes, I do." Jackson set his jaw and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a little like he expected an argument.
Cam relaxed a little. It didn't take away all the guilt; he'd be seeing those dead men in his dreams, and maybe the injured too. But it helped to know that Jackson wasn't holding any grudge. He should have known—but then, he'd have expected Jackson to forgive Woolsey, too.
"Get some rest. And stop playing the 'what if' game. It'll make you crazy." Jackson turned to go.
"You too, Jackson."
He watched Jackson take a couple of steps, noticed the slump in his shoulders, and then the words came out of his mouth before he'd thought them through: "You forgive yourself yet?"
Jackson only turned partway back towards him. "I'll let you know after I've had some sleep. Or after you've had some sleep. One of us, anyway."
Jackson raised a hand in a sort of wave even as he turned back towards the door and left.
It was too bad he couldn't jump forward in evolution like Khalek had done. Or maybe it wasn't. Cam was learning things the hard way. At least, he thought, as he let his eyes close, he was learning.
FIN
AUTHOR: Aelfgyfu
BETA READER:
dudethemathRATING: PG
WARNING: language (mild swearing)
CATEGORY: Gen, epilogue (to "Prototype")
WORD COUNT: way too many—I mean 1529
CHARACTERS: Cameron Mitchell, Daniel Jackson, Carolyn Lam
SPOILERS: "Prototype" and a little for the previous episode, "Babylon"
The infirmary hummed quietly—not at all the level of noise Cam would have expected with every bed in sight filled. He wanted noise—something, anything to pull him back from remembering how the whole mission went to hell from the moment he pushed what he thought was just a damned light switch. The low voices and occasional groan acted as a soundtrack to his mental replay of everything that happened after Khalek fell out of the stasis pod, every wrong choice he'd made, every opportunity he'd missed. He still felt dizzy from being thrown into a wall, but vertigo and nausea weren't enough to distract him.
"You need this bed," Cam tried when the doctor finally reached him. "You don't need to have me laying around the infirmary when you got all these seriously injured people."
He wasn't sure if she actually corrected him to "lying" before Lam looked up from his chart, or if his concussed brain just imagined that bit.
"Nice try, Colonel," the doctor told him humorlessly. "You need this bed as much as anyone else in this area, and more than the people I've let go. You're staying here, under observation, until tomorrow morning."
"Hey, I was in good enough shape to shoot the bad guy!" Was he trying to convince her, or trying to convince himself he'd done enough?
"I heard that Khalek stopped your bullets, and it was Dr. Jackson's that took him out." He got the hint of a smile this time, which normally would have cheered him.
Cam went through the motions of playing along with humor. "Naw—once Jackson hit him the first time, he couldn't stop me any more. Landed every shot, right in his chest."
"Chest?" Lam looked genuinely surprised, even lowering his chart. "You were at point-blank range against a nearly ascended being, and you didn't take a head shot?"
Huh. She had a point there, Cam had to admit. Then again, Jackson hadn't gone for the head, either. And why was the doctor asking him this?
"When did you get to thinking so military?" he blurted.
Lam narrowed her eyes at him, and he just raised his hands in surrender.
"You got me," he said. He didn't want to stay, but he didn't want to argue either. "I'll spend the night." There ought to be some good joke there, with a doctor that pretty, but his battered brain wouldn't supply it.
"Good," the doc answered. She still looked suspicious, but she made a couple more notes on his chart, then handed it to a nurse before moving on to another bed.
"Hey," a voice said to his other side, and Jackson was standing right there. "I was gonna see if you needed a ride home, but I guess not."
Cam frowned at Jackson. How long had the man been standing there? How'd he miss him? Jackson frowned back. Did he come to chew Cam out? No, he'd been talking about driving him home.
Cam went to rub the back of his head, but he stopped immediately. A touch hurt even through his hair. "You're offering me a ride?" he reiterated, trying to be sure he'd heard right.
"Not after I heard you're spending the night."
"I heard about what you said to Woolsey," Cam told him.
Jackson just frowned at him some more. Cam really ought to give up on this conversation and get some sleep. He might have exaggerated his readiness to go back on active duty after the whole bonding-with-Sodan-warriors thing anyway, and the concussion wasn't doing him any favors.
"Which bit did you hear?" Jackson asked before Cam got any farther in his thoughts. "The bit where I said that Khalek was dangerous? That the IOA didn't understand the risks?"
Shut up! his injured brain screamed, but his mouth said, "The bit where you wouldn't forgive him."
"Oh. Did I say that?" The scholar shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking down at the infirmary sheets for a moment, then back at Cam's face. "Or, more to the point, did Woolsey tell you I did?"
"You know how it is. Somebody overheard it, and he told somebody else, and he told—"
Jackson nodded impatiently, cutting off what could have been a long recitation.
"Okay. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Or maybe I should have made sure we were both in the elevator first, so the whole base wouldn't know. I don't see what that has to do with giving you a lift."
"You're angry at Woolsey because he tried to stop you closing the barn doors, but half the horses were already out."
The disgust on Jackson's face should have been funny. "Am I going to get farm metaphors from you like I get sports metaphors from Jack?"
Cam couldn't keep up. "What?"
"Never mind. Can you get to the point, or should I come back when you can think?"
Cam could hear a hint of acid in Jackson's tone, but he wasn't sure it was aimed at him. He really, really ought to tell Jackson to come back tomorrow, but he didn't know how he could sleep with all this hanging over him.
"I pushed the button. I authorized bringing the guy here."
"Landry had to sign off on that—"
"I should have suggested the Alpha Site. I had my boots on the ground; Landry just didn't belay my order to bring him here. We should never have brought him to Earth. And when he blew up the monitor all over Altman and busted free, I should have emptied my whole clip into him." Cam had enough control to keep his voice low in the crowded infirmary, but just barely.
Jackson waited a moment, then blew out some air between his lips. "You done?"
"Two men died, another's probably paralyzed from a spinal injury, we have two TBIs, and a bunch of lesser injuries! I could have prevented all this."
"Yeah," said Jackson. "And so could I, by putting him right back in that pod, or shooting him on 584. Or Teal'c could have done it. Or Sam. Do you blame us too?"
What was Jackson thinking? "I was the one in charge. And I screwed it up first. How can you blame Woolsey and not me?"
Jackson actually sat on the edge of Cam's narrow infirmary bed. He looked tired, Cam realized. Not just one-day tired, but years-tired.
"You were right, back at the start. I pushed a button; you pushed a button." The corners of his mouth turned up just a little. He looked at Cam out of the upper part of his glasses, his head down a bit. "You have no idea how many wrong buttons I pushed when I was a new guy, but we were all new guys then."
Jackson didn't stop there. He seemed to be warming to the topic; his hands came off the bed and started waving in the air. "You screwed up. So did I. So did we all. But Woolsey thought he knew better than we did. You never thought that. Woolsey sat behind bulletproof glass while you were right there in the room with Khalek."
Cam had his mouth open, waiting for words to come out to answer Jackson somehow, but the other man continued, "And you shook off a concussion and provided the distraction I needed to get in there and land a bullet."
Jackson let his hands fall onto the bed again, shrugging a little. Cam didn't let on that the slight impact bothered his head.
"And now you're learning, if you hadn't before, that you can't really shake off a concussion. And you learned something about pushing buttons: namely, don't." Jackson stood.
"So if you're asking if I forgive you"—and Cameron wasn't asking, he didn't dare—"then yes, I do." Jackson set his jaw and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking a little like he expected an argument.
Cam relaxed a little. It didn't take away all the guilt; he'd be seeing those dead men in his dreams, and maybe the injured too. But it helped to know that Jackson wasn't holding any grudge. He should have known—but then, he'd have expected Jackson to forgive Woolsey, too.
"Get some rest. And stop playing the 'what if' game. It'll make you crazy." Jackson turned to go.
"You too, Jackson."
He watched Jackson take a couple of steps, noticed the slump in his shoulders, and then the words came out of his mouth before he'd thought them through: "You forgive yourself yet?"
Jackson only turned partway back towards him. "I'll let you know after I've had some sleep. Or after you've had some sleep. One of us, anyway."
Jackson raised a hand in a sort of wave even as he turned back towards the door and left.
It was too bad he couldn't jump forward in evolution like Khalek had done. Or maybe it wasn't. Cam was learning things the hard way. At least, he thought, as he let his eyes close, he was learning.
FIN
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*HUGS*
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Never thought of that, either. She is absolutely right, too. Sigh -- when it's realism vs. drama, the writers' idea of drama wins every. single. time.
I remember commenting once on how very well you do not-quite-coherent dialogue with concussed people. (Your non-kidfic, remember?) So I'll just say it again. :)
Love Daniel here, and I'm harkening all the way back to the buttons he pushed on the DHD on Abydos with that slight bitterness about not quite having forgiven himself yet. Oh, this was good.
Aelf! You're writing again! Write us more. :)
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I remember commenting once on how very well you do not-quite-coherent dialogue with concussed people.
Thank you! I'd say I'm drawing on my memories of my own concussion here, but because I had a concussion at the time, I'm not certain how accurate those memories are. ;-)
I'm glad you enjoyed it!