"I won't, Jonas. I won't let you fall. It's going to be okay." Bromwell's voice hovers in his ears. He'd said that aloud?
He wants to believe her, but he's facing the very real possibility that he may die here on the ground, his life force is draining away from him. He draws in a shaky breath, keeps a tight hold on the hand that is saving his life and closes his heavy eyes.
He's moving, gently being gathered from off of the ground. The hand still holds his. That's good, it's keeping him alive. If he let's go, his life will fade away to nothing. He opens his eyes and through hazy vision sees a medical team watching him with anxious expressions.
Night is still present. The darkness is still smothering him. He blinks through tired eyes that want to slam shut on him. He can't fight it; his eyes close once again.
A feeling of cold, shivering, shaking, his entire body is trembling. Pain, it's still there. It blinds him and he grimaces. A small whimper escapes his frozen lips. He's still fading, still slipping; the hand is no longer there. He reaches for it, searches for that life saving grasp. There it is. He turns to see Bromwell watching him. They are at the base of the ramp in the SGC. Her face is still.
"I have to let go, Jonas. Doctor Fraser's here." Bromwell's words are soft and they gently reverberate in his ears.
He knows she has to let go. He wants to thank her for keeping him from falling, but he can't, his mouth won't function. Pain rips through him again, a tear slides down his cheek. He closes his eyes and drifts.
It is soft beneath him. The room is warm. He's no longer cold. Death isn't knocking at his door. He struggles to open his eyes and does so with difficulty. He's floating, drifting in a world without pain. His vision is edgy, smoky and blurred. He blinks. It softens and clears.
He's staring at a ceiling, a familiar ceiling. He's seen this before. A slow, steady beeping of machines tugs at the edge of his mind. He shifts, only to find that he's drowning in countless wires. He tries to take a deep breath, the pain returns. He yelps, but it's husky as it rattles in his dry throat.
A straw is pressed against his lips; he accepts it and drinks slowly. The cold liquid rushes down his parched throat. He coughs and shifts his eyes to see who is there. Doctor Fraser stands next to him, she grips the glass gently in one hand, and she holds the straw with the other.
She smiles. "Welcome back." She says warmly.
"Where are the others?" Jonas speaks. His voice surprises him. It sounds distant, hollow, and tired, not like him at all.
"They're safe. SG-3 mounted a rescue mission with SG-4. Your friends are here and they're worried about you." She replies gently.
"I want to see them." Jonas replies. His voice is still weary.
"You can, but they're in a debriefing with General Hammond right now. They'll be down after it finishes."
Jonas nods, because he's too tired to speak anymore. His eyes drift shut and he falls into unconsciousness.
"He's sleeping." The words come from Fraser and pierce Jonas's hazy mind.
"Should we come back?" Sam's voice, gentle and worried.
"No, it'll be nice for someone to be here when he wakes up so he knows that he's safe. He's worried about you, all of you." Fraser says calmly.
There's movement and he senses a presence hovering near him. He forces his eyes open and meets Major Carter's light blue gaze. She smiles. He nods. She has a bruise on her cheek and a cut on her forehead, but she doesn't seem to notice.
More movement. Colonel O'Neill's tense face blocks his vision. The older man has a cast on his arm and a bruise along his jaw.
"You had to let yourself get shot, didn't you, Jonas?" The older man's words are stern, but not hurtful. O'Neill's brown eyes twinkle in a teasing manner.
"Not voluntarily." Jonas replies. His voice is still weak. He swallows the scratchiness in his throat and tries to hide a wince when a sharp jolt of pain pulls in his stomach.
He gasps, but will not allow weakness to cross his face. Not in front of his teammates.
"Are you okay?" Sam asks, her face is anxious.
Jonas nods. Death no longer wants to take him hostage. He's fine.
"I thought I was going to die out there." Jonas replies, not quite sure where the words come from.
The faces of his teammates cloud to show sympathy. Fraser does something to his IV drip. He watches her through wavering eyes.
"It is not your time to die, Jonas Quinn." Teal'c speaks.
He knows that now, but he didn't know that when he was lying on the ground back on that planet. He didn't know everything was going to turn out to be okay as he slowly lost his grasp on life. He didn't know. He knows now though. He knows that he'll be okay.
His eyes grow heavy and he lets them close. He doesn't fight off the approaching darkness because he knows now that he has a tight hold on life. He's not afraid any longer.
He's pulled from sleep by the sound of a pen scratching against paper. He opens his eyes and turns his weary head to face the noise. Sergeant Bromwell sits in the chair next to him, she sees him and smiles. She sets her paper aside.
"How are you feeling?" She asks. Her blue eyes are soft and questioning.
"I'm holding on. Thanks for not letting me fall." Jonas replies.
She nods "You're welcome."
Jonas lets his mind drift.
He's holding on and he isn't letting go. He's never letting go.
Time. It's something that many people don't have enough of and one doesn't know how precious it is until it almost passes him by. Time never used to be something that Jonas worried about, but now his view has changed. Now he worries. He doesn't want to be a helpless victim of time.
A/N: I know it was short, and not very action packed, but I hope you all enjoyed it. Until next time!