Jackfic Archive Story


Come Fly with Me General Jack Year Three - Part Seventeen

by Flatkatsi

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).

The suitcase and boxes vanished first. Pop - gone. It beat paying for removalists. Then my bedroom exploded in a blinding light and disappeared.

"Greetings, O'Neill."

I opened my mouth to answer, but instead found my words replaced with a startled yelp as I careered backwards, then sideways, before slamming into the far wall and tipping over.

I lay, my face mashed into the floor, pounding my fist heavily on the hard metal to stop myself from crying out my agony.

"You are hurt." It wasn't a question. I lifted my head and turned it to the side. Thor was squatting beside me looking worried, his eyes wide. "I apologise. I did not take your wheeled conveyance into account when I programmed the ship to enter hyperspace as soon as you boarded."

I dropped my head back down. "And so begins the illustrious career of General Jack O'Neill, Ambassador to the Asgard. Ass up in the air and face down on the floor. About par for the course."

"Can you rise?"

"Give me a minute here, buddy."

There were a few minutes of silence while I waited for the pain in my legs to stop being the most important thing in the universe. Thor settled into an uncomfortable seeming cross-legged position and proceeded to stare at me. I ignored him.

Finally, I felt able to move. I twisted over and sat up, bending forward and untangling my uncooperative legs from the chair.

"Can you get this upright?" I gestured at the wheelchair and Thor nodded, flowing seamlessly to his feet in a fluid movement I had envied even before I was kneecapped. He set the chair on its wheels and gave it a push. Something fell with a clunk to the deck.

We looked at each other.

"This does not appear good, O'Neill."

I refrained from saying 'no shit, Sherlock,' instead I looked around. "Where's your medi-pod? Just stick me in it and there won't be any need to worry about the chair."

"It is in that compartment." Thor pointed to an open door just to our left. "However, I do not know how I will be able to 'stick you in it'."

"Fly it on out here." I knew they had some sort of anti-gravity thingy. I'd seen one floating about.

"I am afraid the pod in this ship is the most basic model. It does not have anti- gravitational abilities."

Okay - not a problem. Easily solved.

"Call for some help." It may be undignified but I could cope with being carried by little gray aliens if it meant being fixed.

Thor blinked at me and I realised we were, for once, at the same eyelevel. "There is no one to help. This ship is a small private vessel needing only one person to operate it. I was unaware of your injury when I came to your planet and thought it unnecessary to take a military vessel and its crew from their duties just to do such a simple task."

"So we're alone?"

He nodded slowly.

Okay, we could do this. Think positively.

"All right then, looks like you're it."


I gestured to the other room. "I can get myself over there, but if this pod of yours is the same as all the others I've seen then you'll have to figure out a way to get me up and into it. I take it you aren't the weightlifting champion of Asgardia?" Thor cocked his head and I continued before he could say how puzzled he was. "Forget it. How about I head over that way? That should give you plenty of time to pull an anti-gravity lifter out of your hat."

"I left my hat at home, O'Neill. It is with my other suit."

I gave him an evil glare. "Oh, very funny. Quite the comedian."

"I have learnt from the best." He gave a slight nod towards me. Before I could thank him, he continued. "Teal'c is an excellent teacher." I scowled and he turned away, and I swear I caught the glimpse of a smirk. "I will see you at the pod."

I began my awkward wiggle across the room, muttering under my breath at the aches and pains that were its price. By the time I was almost at the doorway I was exhausted. My right leg was leaving a thin dribbly red line on the grey metal, a legacy of its battle with the wheelchair spokes.

"Hey, Thor, I don't suppose you could just beam me into the thing?"

I waited for Thor's answer, but it was a moment in coming, and when it did his voice sounded a little stressed.

"It would be too dangerous to use the transporter for such a short distance."

I waited a moment, but he didn't say anything more.

"Okay then. Don't worry; I'll be there in a bit."

He didn't seem to be worried.


I could have kissed the pod when I finally reached it. Its smooth sides seemed to stretch up for miles, but it was just another obstacle to overcome - like the star on my Christmas tree. I could do this.

I couldn't see a sign of my travelling companion anywhere. "Thor. Where the hell are you?" Well, excuse me for being a little testy but I could do with an aspirin and a lie down right now.

"I am here, O'Neill." His shiny, bald head popped up from behind a console, the veins pulsing slightly, something I had never seen before and frankly, grossed me out a bit. "I will be a short while longer. I have some further adjustments to make."

"Sure, not a problem. I'll wait here then."

With my back against the pod and my legs outstretched, I rested for a few minutes, before occupying my time with carefully lifting my trouser leg and checking out the fairly significant gash that ran down my right ankle.

There was no point trying to do anything about it now. I doubted that Thor had any tissues and anyway, the pod would fix it.

The pod would fix everything.


If my friends saw me now I would - I don't actually know what I'd do, maybe die of embarrassment. Or, on second thoughts, I'd have to kill them, just like I would if they found the manuscript of my memoirs.

My legs were sticking up, while my ass was wedged in a space small enough to make my eyes water. My hands clutched tightly at what little remained of the side of Thor's command chair after most of its panels had been removed - the task that had taken Thor so long to complete. I don't think he had much practice with a screwdriver.

I tightened my grip as the chair hovered over the pod and slowly tipped.

"Wait! On second thoughts, this isn't a good ..." My protest came way too late and was probably too high pitched to be understood. My ass wasn't the only thing being squashed.

The chair gave a little shake as if trying to free itself of its far too large burden, and I felt myself come loose like ketchup from a bottle.

Then I fell.

For the second time this day I ended up face down and bottom up. My dignity had SO left the building.


I swear, if I heard so much as the hint of a titter I would kick his gray butt right out the airlock.

"Jack?" Thin, bony figures reached for me, carefully helping me to turn. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, buddy, I'm fine."

"You remember what I explained?" He gently straightened out my legs, giving me some relief from the throbbing that was already causing sweat to bead on my brow. "This pod, it ..."

"Yeap, I know. It's like a first-aid kit rather than a hospital bed. Got it."

"Perhaps it would be better to wait until you can make use of the full medical facilities on Orilla?"

"And how long is it going to take us to get there, again?"

"As I said, approximately four of your Earth days."

"Then I'd rather see what can be fixed now than wait, especially given the state of my wheelchair. You don't want to be carrying me around the ship, now do you?"

Thor blinked in agreement. "Very well." He reached over and pressed a control pad. "I will be waiting here when you awake."

The cover slid shut.


There was that smell again, the one that dogged my dreams. Anesthetic - sickly sweet. It turned my stomach. I was within a second of upchucking all over the spotless glass of the Asgard pod when the lid slid open silently, letting in much needed fresh air. I took a long, deep, somewhat desperate breath.

I was still panting when Thor popped up, looking down at me.

"I am sorry, O'Neill."

Oh, crap.

I needed to hear this.

I didn't want to hear this.

I had to hear this.

Oh, crap.

"The pod was unable to complete your healing. As I suspected, it was beyond its capabilities." He paused, blinked, and waited, but I just looked back up at him. I really didn't know what to say. Then his calm voice continued and I felt my heart begin to race. "It was able to partially heal you, however the combination of a chemical imbalance and the drugs you have taken to help stabilise it were too complicated for the pod's basic healing ability."

Wait a second.

"It did heal something?"

Thor nodded. "That is what I said, O'Neill."

Too afraid to ask, I slowly bent my left leg.

My knee did its job without even a click. Then I bent the right leg, a small part of me noticing the gash was healed, but not really caring. It worked perfectly.


I sat up and twisted my legs sideways, dropping down to the floor.

And ended up face down and butt up.

For cryin' out loud!

I can quite categorically state that the third time is not lucky. There was nothing lucky about the wack my nose took.

Thor's patient voice floated down to me.

"I did say you weren't properly healed, Jack."


There was a loud exclamation - okay, let's be honest, it was a quite startlingly rude swearword - followed by the sound of metal hitting metal. I shut my eyes again and lay back on my pillow.

Thor may have only brought a small ship, but it was luxurious in comparison to the facilities I had seen on his battleships. I had my own bedroom, with a proper bed and even, gods be praised, a proper Earth pillow. Thor had unpacked the things I would need for the next few days and stored then in a cupboard hidden behind a panel, then he left me to rest.

And boy, did I need the rest. The pod seemed to have fixed my knees, but I was still unable to stand for any length of time and I certainly couldn't jump athletically down from anything, as I had found out to my cost. Whether the weakness was because of disuse or some more serious cause, Thor couldn't say. It seemed the anti-depressants in my system blocked any further healing or analysis.

The elation of standing upright and making my way to my quarters and into bed was a little dimmed by the amount of help I needed from Thor to do so. But, I had done it - stood and walked - something I thought I'd never do again. I was already planning my own physiotherapy routine to while away the remaining time before we reached Orilla. If it was muscle weakness, then I was going to damn well unweaken them.

And the pills had been flushed down the toilet. When I eventually went into the pod at the Asgard medical facility I intended to be drug free. I might be depressed and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but there wouldn't be anything in my system to interfere with being properly fixed.

I poked my tongue through the gap in my front teeth and wiggled it about. That was another thing Thor's pod couldn't fix. It seemed they needed a genetic record for that - sort of like a mini-cloning. Naturally my genetic record was on file on Orilla.


I shivered, thinking of the reason they had that record. Thor's death and rebirth hadn't been one of the highpoints of my past couple of years as a general. I smiled. Who would have guessed that letting the Asgard use my DNA to help clone Thor would lead to me getting my front tooth back. It was funny how things ran around in circles and finally worked out.

Thor's voice brought me out of the half-doze I had fallen into. My Asgard language skills were excellent, but that was one word I hadn't heard before. Maybe I didn't want to find out what it meant. I sat and used one hand to prop myself up.

"What's up?"

The muttering dropped in level before fading into silence.

"Hey, Thor, is there a problem?"

I waited patiently for an answer, but got none. Instead, a few minutes later, there came a weird creaking, squeaking sound coming closer to my door. I twisted around, ready to, not so much leap up to defend myself, as rise slowly to an upright position and sway on the spot in an intimidating manner.

Its wheels wobbling and its left armrest bent, my wheelchair didn't so much a roll, as flop through the opening, followed by a rather worse for wear Asgard.

Thor's left hand had a makeshift bandage tied around it and he had what looked like oil in streaks across his face.

But he was smiling.

"You fixed it?" I don't know why I asked, because it was obvious he had, seeing there was no one else on the ship with us. Maybe it was just surprise that someone so use to pushing buttons to get things to work could do this.

He nodded. "You will need it until we are home."

Home. I had left one home behind and was heading for another. And a fresh start.

I stood and took two shaking steps to reach the chair before carefully sitting in it, making sure it could still take my weight. I shifted to get myself more comfortable and felt the seat sink downwards a little. I stilled and looked up to see if Thor had noticed, but found him wiping his face with a glistening, silver-sequined cloth. He finished and gave me a look of inquiry.

"Is it all right, O'Neill?"

"All right? It's more than all right, buddy, it's excellent!" I pushed off, not letting him see the effort it took to turn the slightly less than circular wheel. "How about you get me another bandage and I'll see what damage you've done to yourself? Then, I don't know about you, but I feel like playing poker."

Thor's face lit up and I was quietly thankful I hadn't brought anything valuable with me that I could lose.

"I have installed equipment to play your entertainment recordings. Perhaps you would care to watch one while we play?"

"A DVD player?" He nodded. "Sweet!" I rolled over to the neat pile of boxes on the other side of the room, digging through them until I found the one I wanted. "Pick one of these - there's plenty you haven't seen."

I watched as the Supreme Commander began to search through my DVD collection.

I'd made the right move throwing out my medication. There wasn't any need to take anti-depressants.

There was nothing to be depressed about. Everything was just great.


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