All in a Day's Work

A Martin Wood Fic

-by Sarai-

Series: Gap between S7 and S8 with spoilers for these episodes.

Disclaimer:I don't own anything! If I did I'd be a lot richer than I am. Probably.

Pairings: S/J (as always!). With a little Martin/Siler…not buyin' it eh?

Warnings:Some naughty naughty words.

A/N: This bizarre work of fiction is dedicated to Jumble over on the S/J thread at Gateworld on Martinmas, a very special day dedicated to Martin Wood. Not only is Jumble mahoo(d)sive fan of all things Wood, she was also recently in a very serious accident. So, Jumbly, this is for you with love and best wishes. Get back on your feet soon.

To the rest of you, this fic is based around Martin Wood; the one, the only, ultimate TPTB shipper. And clearly, it has a strong S/J theme throughout. But 'how' I hear you ask? Read on dear friends…

Many thanks to Josiane for betaing, many commas and semi-colons would have gone astray if tweren't for her!


Prologue:

The studio heat was intense, despite the high ceiling and partial air conditioning. Perhaps because the day was unnaturally hot in Vancouver; a heat wave settling like a blanket over the city and its studio lots. Huge 400 watt flood lights lit the stage for the final scene of Stargate SG-1 Season Seven. Behind the lights, wires tangled like snakes down the wall, bombarding the electrical circuit. At the entrance to one of the heavy duty electrical sockets an errant wire snagged on the wall, unnoticed. The heat coupled with the heightened moisture in the room from the crew and cast and the power on the circuit, seemed to be more than the faulty wire could bear. A spark ignited, falling on to the other wires. It started a chain reaction, melting menacingly through plastic casing.

The light at the end of the circuit shone on, illuminating the scene for filming, with none aware of the danger close by.

Chapter One:

"Aaaaaaand Cut!"

Martin sprang up from his chair, clapping his hands together as he watched his two leading actors descend into giggles. He rolled his eyes.

"Check the gate. That's a wrap on Season Seven!" He threw his arms in the air as everyone cheered and Peter Deluise shook his hand thoroughly.

Martin's beaming smile faded as he noticed Brad Wright, his friend, colleague and co-creator of the franchise. The older man jerked his head towards the door, tight-lipped, and they made their way through the sea of celebrating cast and crew.

Outside on the lot, Brad and Martin found a secluded spot for their discussion. Brad sighed, shaking his head at his friends questioning look.

"They really didn't go for it?" Martin was incredulous.

Brad took a breath before answering, "It's an expensive show for them Martin, and you know they aren't sure about its viability without Rick on board."

"I know but-"

Brad shook his head sadly, cutting him off, "They still haven't made their final decision. And we still have the storylines pitch on Monday to help secure a deal for both Rick and the studio."

"The storylines pitch" Martin glanced upwards as Brad nodded.

"No pressure then."


The young director wandered through a now deserted set. The cast and crew were no doubt getting ready for the huge wrap party tonight. They'd left everything exactly as it was during photography, kind of the like the last day of term where all of the boring stuff was left for tomorrow.

Sighing, Martin drank in the magnificent stage. This had been one of the most expensive sets of that current season; the icy cavern where the writers had left Colonel O'Neill seemingly to his doom, with his 2IC Major Carter and teammates Daniel Jackson and Teal'c watching in horror as he was placed in stasis. It was a great episode, and they'd already written the conclusion; the first episodes of Season 8. Only it was a bitch getting the green light on that one.

The main issue was money. The show was popular, but it was hellishly expensive to make, and the studio was no longer convinced of the need for the expenditure. The other problem being the shows lead actor, Richard Dean Anderson. Rick wanted to spend more time with his daughter and would only stay for one more series, although even that was pushing it. He hadn't actually signed up yet and wouldn't until he saw a good exit strategy for the character, not wanting to piss off the fans any more than they already would be. He was a good man, Rick. Still, Martin couldn't help wishing he'd sign already.

The director meandered around the stage in a daze, fiddling with equipment and pondering his time on SG-1. He supposed the new project, Atlantis, would be fun, but not the same; never the same. Rounding a corner, artificially created by the jagged intersection of two spare 'cave' pieces leaning against a wall, Martin didn't notice the danger at his feet. Some inept crew member had left one section of heavy wiring not taped down, according to the correct safety procedures. Martin hooked his foot through it, tripping and throwing out his hand to catch anything on the way down. It connected with an electrical socket, a length of sharp wire poking out of the top. The wire was clearly faulty. Sparks showered again as the socket, still imbued with residual electricity, sent a jolt into Martin's body. He went down with a shout as pain plunged him into darkness.


Head pounding like a bass drum, Martin slowly opened his eyes. Everything was out of focus and the ringing in his ears nearly blocked out the steady beep of the heart monitor. Hushed voices murmured in his ears, and with a huge effort he raised his index finger. The effort tired him out. His eyelids drooped once more.

Slowly Martin opened his eyes again. The voices remained; only when he raised his finger he found he could move the rest of his hand as well. Good, still working. This time when he blinked, things were a little more in focus, although the glare of a white light blinded him a little. He couldn't help but remember every quote about a white light from TV and film and chuckled, which turned into a cough.

A face appeared in his vision. The woman, or at least he hoped she was, was smiling kindly at him. She wore a white coat, that much he could tell, and it took his addled mind a few moments to realise she must be a doctor.

Screwing his eyes shut and blinking a few times, everything sharpened into a much better focus. The doctor was young and dark-haired. She shone a light in his eyes a couple of times, asked him his name and birthday before smiling again and moving off. He raised his head, watching her, and noticed the other people in the room.

Rick stood there. And Amanda and Dan. Even Torri Higginson was there. Bizarre, he thought.

Rick and Amanda approached him, smiling faintly.

"How're you doin'?" Rick asked him with some concern, glancing at Amanda.

Martin raised a hand to his head. "Apart from a headache the size of Canada, you mean?" Rick raised his eyebrow, Martin could only assume at his unfamiliar snippyness. He sighed.

"Really, I'm ok." He looked around. "What the hell happened?"

Rick stepped back, gesturing to Dan. The wily stunt man stepped forward with a grimace.

"Loose electrical wire on one of the mains lighting units. You got fried. What have I said about those units?!" he hissed vehemently and Martin blinked.

"Sorry Dan. I didn't think the stage lighting fell under your jurisdiction!" The pounding in his head made him snappier.

"Well it do-…Wait did you just call me 'Dan'?" He looked from Martin over to Rick and back again, confusion written on his face. Martin frowned.

"Uh. Yeah. Since its your name and all".

The four were silent for a moment before Amanda stepped forward.

"Wood, what's my name?"

Wood? "Uh, Amanda Tapping!" They stared at him. He pointed to Rick then Torri, raising his voice angrily.

"That's Richard Dean Anderson and that's Torri Higg-…" They were silent, glancing at each other with worry etched over their faces. Martin threw his hands up furiously. "Come on you guys, quit fucking around! It's not funny. I'm the one who got knocked out for Pete's sake!"

He missed Rick's wince.

Amanda leaned in a little. "Major Wood, you've suffered a massive concussion. It's only natural for you to experience some memory loss. My name is Major Samantha Carter." She spoke slowly, as if to a child, pointing across at Dan, "This is Sergeant Siler. And this," she gestured to her right, "is General Jack O'Neill." She paused, "of the U.S. Air Force."

Martin laughed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. They'd all gone mad. Or he was dreaming. Looking around at them he met their worried stares with his confused one. It was then he noticed the room. The SGC infirmary.

He laughed again, smacking his head angrily with his hand until O'Neill, Rick, whoever he was, caught his wrist.

"Major!" He waited until he had Martin's full attention. "This will stop. Now. You are Major Martin Wood of the U.S. Air Force and Stargate Command. You're a good officer. You just took a big knock. Take it easy ok?" He turned to walk out, looking back over his shoulder and smiling, "And then get back to work."

Amanda and Torri followed him from the room, smiling sadly at Dan. He looked down at his friend. Martin choked.

"Seriously Dan, quit it now. Tell me what's going on." Dan remained silent, pulling up a chair to sit down by the bed.

Martin laid his head back against the pillow breathing heavily. Rolling over he shut out the room and Dan, praying that when he woke up everything would be different.


A/N: Intéressant no?! All will become clear soon enough. And I promise the S/J theme will rear its magical head at some point very soon. Please review, every time you do it's like saying "I believe in fairies"; I come back to life!... Just kidding, but please, reviews are good.