The door slammed shut and he was left alone in the dark, damp, cramped cell. Alone with nothing but his own thoughts. He had never been more afraid in his life.
Colonel Jack O'Neill shot up in bed, heart pounding. For a moment, he really believed he was still in the cell, then his senses kicked in and he began to register that he was laying on something soft, rather than a cold, solid floor. Opening his eyes, he could see the early morning light beginning to seep in through a chink in the curtains and he realised that he was laying in his own bed. Relief flooded through him. It was a long time since he'd had such a vivid dream of that cell in an Iraqi prison. For months after his release he'd had dreams - nightmares - every night, but with the passage of time the memories had begun to fade and the dreams with them. Now they only returned occasionally, when he was particularly tense, or when something had happened that especially reminded him of those four months of hell.
Laying back quietly for a moment, he forced himself to take long, slow breaths, trying to control his breathing. He was drenched in sweat and shaking slightly. The dream had been unbelievably vivid. He could still feel the fear, the sickening feeling of despair as the cell door had shut, plunging him physically and mentally into darkness where every vestige of hope was gone. Dammit! Why would the nightmare return now? SG-1's last few missions had been uneventful. Yesterday's mission, to PX-32154, had been positively boring. Nothing at all to remind him of Iraq.
After a few minutes, he glanced at the clock ... 0600. His head pounded and he felt as if he hadn't slept at all. With a groan he dragged himself out of bed and prepared to face the day.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Four days later
As Doctor Daniel Jackson launched into an animated lecture on the archaeological finds they could expect on their upcoming mission to PK-571, Major Samantha Carter glanced surreptitiously across the table at her commanding officer. O'Neill had the haggard, pale appearance of a man who hadn't slept for days and there was a dark bruise along his jaw line. He'd made a joke about it, explaining that he'd walked into a door, but she hadn't been convinced. There was something wrong.
Ever since their last mission to PX-32154 four days ago the Colonel had looked progressively more tired every day. He was unnaturally quiet, too. During Daniel's talk she had glanced at O'Neill several times, as the archaeologist left himself wide open for one of the Colonel's scathing comments, but O'Neill had simply sat there quietly, chin supported on one hand. His eyes were focussed on Daniel, but Carter had a feeling that if she'd asked him to repeat anything that had been said, he'd have drawn a blank.
She was worried about him, but unsure what to do or say. She knew from experience that he wasn't a man to share his problems and if something was bothering him, he'd shut everyone out and work it through himself. She'd given up wishing that he was different, that he'd share his feelings with his friends - with her. If he was different, he wouldn't be the man she loved .... She caught herself, quickly pushing that thought firmly to the back of her mind where it belonged. She couldn't afford to let her mind wonder into dangerous territory ....
"Major? Major Carter!"
General Hammond's voice penetrated her thoughts and she realised that everyone in the room was looking at her, waiting for an answer to a question she hadn't even heard.
"Sorry, sir," she said quickly. "What was the question?"
Daniel grinned and Teal'c raised an eyebrow a bare millimeter, the minuscule change in his expression conveying surprise. Hammond let her moment of inattention pass by without comment. "I just asked, Major," he said, "if you're sure the environmental conditions on this planet are conducive?"
She nodded. "The atmosphere is almost identical to our own, sir. There's no danger."
"Very well. If there are no more questions for Dr Jackson, you're dismissed. You ship out in one hour."
There was a general shuffling of feet and papers as the team rose and made their way from the briefing room. Sam fell into step with the Colonel as he headed off down the corridor.
"So, looks like another mission to examine a pile of rocks," she offered lightly. He grunted in response. She took a deep breath. "Sir, is anything wrong?"
Jack answered without looking at her or breaking stride. "Nothing's wrong, Major. Everything's just peachy, thank you."
"I ..... it's just that you don't seem your usual self, sir,' she persisted. "You look tired. Are you sleeping all right?" She tried to make the question casual, but he stopped abruptly and turned to look at her, his expression unreadable.
"What is this, interrogate the Colonel day?" he responded irritably. "I'm just fine, Major, okay?"
"Sir ... maybe you should get Janet to give you a check up ...."
"For crying out loud, Carter! How many more times? I'm FINE! I just .... I haven't been sleeping too well, that's all. Now, don't we have some big, ugly rocks to investigate?" His expression said 'this subject is closed' as he strode off down the corridor. Sam followed slowly, not fooled by his protestations. There was something wrong, and she was sure it was a lot more than lack of sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Oh, that's just great, Daniel. We've spent six hours - six whole hours - in this dark, miserable, godforsaken HELLHOLE, and you've just proved we could have had as much fun back home playing with rocks in the back yard! Well, you've excelled yourself this time and I for one have had enough. Why don't you put your bucket and spade away and let's get us the hell out of here!"
For several minutes after he'd marched out of sight, the Colonel's sarcastic voice continued to echo around the cavern. Daniel flushed. He'd been so excited when they'd discovered the series of man-made underground caverns, certain that he'd find some ancient artifacts, or wall paintings, or something to tell him about the people who'd lived on this planet. He'd spent the last six hours chipping away unsuccessfully at a succession of oddly formed rock formations. The final rock had just proved to be exactly that - a rock.
Teal'c stood, stony faced, staring after the Colonel. Sam moved to stand by Daniel, putting a comforting hand on his arm.
"He didn't mean it, Daniel. You know he's been in a bad mood all day ...."
"Didn't he? He seemed like his usual, irritating self to me! He's never acknowledged the value of my work!" the archaeologist replied heatedly, sudden anger replacing the momentary hurt. "I don't know why he continues to command this team, if he hates what we do so much ...."
Sam opened her mouth to defend her commanding officer, but Teal'c got in first. "I do not agree, Daniel Jackson. Major Carter is correct. O'Neill is not himself."
Daniel said nothing further, but silently gathered his tools together and followed Sam and Teal'c out of the cavern.
Jack stood a short distance away from the cavern entrance, facing the distant hills, trying to pull himself together. He yawned widely, then scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. He was so tired he just wanted to lay down and sleep and he was beginning to wonder if he was going out of his mind.
He'd had nightmares of the Iraqi prison for the last four nights, each morning waking up with a feeling akin to a hangover, the memories deeply imprinted in his mind. He'd dreamed of the moments of his capture, the first relatively civilised conversation with an Iraqi general, then the first few days of solitary confinement in his cell, left to contemplate the interrogation he had been promised would come. It was getting to the point where he was afraid to go to sleep, afraid to face the nightmares again. Living through four long months of hell the first time had almost taken his grasp on sanity, not to mention his life, but living through it again was a nightmare he couldn't even contemplate.
Jack knew his behaviour towards his team during this mission had been totally unacceptable, but there was just something about these caverns. Over the years since Iraq he'd trained himself to control the stab of fear he always felt when confronted with a dark, enclosed space. But this time, with the dreams so vivid in his mind, he'd found his control wavering. Consequently he'd been irritable, snapping at the slightest thing. Jack was already ashamed of his latest outburst. He hadn't missed the hurt look in Daniel's eyes as he'd turned and stormed out, unable to stay in that place one moment longer.
He kicked out angrily at a nearby tree stump, welcoming the stab of pain as his foot connected. He was going to have to take control of this. Reluctantly, he resolved to see Doctor Fraiser the next day, there must be some kind of sleeping pill or something she could give him.
When the others emerged from the cavern, he was ready to confront Daniel and apologise. But the archaeologist didn't give him an opportunity, quickly pulling his back pack on and marching off in the direction of the Stargate. O'Neill glanced at Sam who shrugged but didn't offer a comment. The hour's walk back to the gate was completed in an uncomfortable silence.
The mission debriefing was routine and the team was soon dismissed and free to go home. There was another mission due the following day, to be followed by four days of down time. Daniel and Jack didn't speak while changing in the locker room, Daniel because he was still mad, Jack because he couldn't think of what to say and really didn't have the energy to try. He left the base as soon as possible, deftly avoiding his second-in-command when he saw her walking purposefully in his direction, he wasn't in the mood for a confrontation.
He drove home and parked his jeep in the drive, too tired to bother putting it in the garage. He fixed himself a snack, which he didn't have the energy to eat and settled down on the couch in front of the TV, idly surfing from channel to channel. He didn't want to sleep, but eventually his body gave in and he drifted off.
The cell door opened, letting in a narrow shaft of light. He blinked, momentarily blinded. He hadn't seen light for what must have been days. The guards didn't speak, simply dragged him roughly to his feet, and frog marched him out of the cell and down the dimly lit corridor into the room at the end of the hall. The only furniture present was a large wooden chair in the middle of the room. He was pushed into the chair, arms pulled roughly behind him and his wrists tightly secured to the chair frame. His legs were pulled wide, ankles similarly fastened to the outside of the chair legs. The guards took up positions across the room from him. One of them was holding a thick, wooden baton, tapping it softly against his leg. O'Neill caught the man's eye and the Iraqi smiled lazily. They both knew what was going to happen next. Jack looked away.
A few moments later a tall, thin and extremely handsome Iraqi he hadn't seen before entered the room.
For a long, long time the newcomer just stood before him, staring at him thoughtfully. Then he spoke, in fluent, barely accented English.
"So, American, you have had some time to consider your situation. Your stay here could be a long one. I can make it comfortable for you, or I can make your life a living hell. The choice is entirely yours. Are you going to give me the information I require? Or are going to play the hero? Which is it to be?"
O'Neill responded mechanically, as he had 15 years ago. "O'Neill, Jonathan, Major, United States Air Force ...."
This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. As the first blow from the wooden baton connected, sending pain shooting through his body and driving all breath from his lungs, his dream became reality .....
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
General Hammond walked briskly into the briefing room and glanced at the three members of SG-1 seated around the table. He looked at his watch and frowned. "Where's Colonel O'Neill?"
"He isn't in yet?" Daniel asked in surprise. The Colonel was usually the first on base.
"I assumed he was with you," Sam added, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. Not that she'd usually be worried that her commanding officer was a few minutes late for a briefing, but under current circumstances ....
"Has anyone seen him?" General Hammond's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Everyone shook their heads. "Then I suggest one of you try to contact him," the General continued, impatience beginning to show in his voice. Some things he could put up with, but tardiness was not one of them. "This is an important briefing and it certainly can't go ahead without the Colonel."
"I'll go," Sam offered hastily, heading to the nearest phone. She tried O'Neill's home number, letting it ring for several minutes. No answer. Then she tried his cell phone with the same result.
Returning to the briefing room she reported, "I can't raise him, General. No answer on either his home or cell phone."
General Hammond looked around the room at his team, all of whom were studiously looking elsewhere. "Is there something going on with Colonel O'Neill that I should know about?"
"Of course not, General."
"What do you mean, Sir?"
"Not to my knowledge General Hammond."
He looked at them sharply. "I may be getting on a bit, but I'm not blind. It's obvious that Colonel O'Neill has been under the weather the past few days. I was going to send him to Doctor Fraiser this morning for a check up."
"Sir, with your permission, perhaps Daniel and I could go to his house, check that everything's okay?" Sam suggested tentatively, glancing uneasily at Daniel.
The archaeologist nodded slightly, beginning to feel a stab of concern himself. Once he'd calmed down the previous evening, he'd had to admit that Jack hadn't been his usual self over the past few days and had also begun to wonder what was behind the Colonel's behaviour.
General Hammond nodded his agreement. Ordinarily he'd have sent a driver to O'Neill's home. However, if Jack was in some kind of trouble, he didn't want it broadcast all over the base. He looked thoughtfully after Sam and Daniel as they left the room, hoping against hope that the nagging feeling of unease would prove to be unfounded.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As they pulled up outside Jack's home, Sam and Daniel could see that the house was in darkness. The drapes were open on the second floor but drawn on the first and there was no sign of life. The Colonel's jeep was parked on the drive, rather than in its usual place in the garage.
Daniel walked up to the front door, Sam at his heels, and rang the doorbell. No answer. He rang again, keeping his finger pressed against the bell for a long time. Still, no answer. Daniel glanced at Sam and she shrugged. "We'd better check inside. He might be ill, or something."
Daniel took out the spare key Jack had given him for emergencies and turned it in the lock. Pushing the door open, Daniel stepped into the hall, Sam a few paces behind him, and called, "Jack?"
"Colonel, are you here?"
The house was silent. They moved further into the hallway. "Daniel, why don't you check upstairs. I'll look round down here." Sam suggested. Daniel nodded and headed for the stairs.
Sam checked the kitchen first. O'Neill's leather jacket was draped over the back of a chair and there was half a loaf of bread and a tub of peanut butter on the table. There was coffee in the coffee maker, but it was cold.
She moved into the living room. It was dark, but a shaft of light from a crack in the drapes illuminated the room enough for her to see her commanding officer sprawled, unmoving, on the floor near the couch. Heart pounding, she crossed the room, sinking to her knees at his side, feeling urgently for his pulse. To her relief it was steady if a little weak. Sam righted the lamp which lay on its side nearby and flipped the switch. The lamp burst into light, illuminating his face. Sam drew in her breath sharply. The Colonel's face was battered, his lower lip split, one eye blackened and swollen. A trail of dried blood ran down his face from his nose. The black T-shirt he was wearing had ridden up and she could see black and yellow bruising around his ribs and stomach. "Daniel!" She bellowed at the top of her voice, and heard the urgent clatter of boots as the archaeologist responded to the obvious panic in her voice and pounded back down the stairs.
"Sam? Where are you?"
"Living room ...."
O'Neill groaned. Immediately, Carter turned her attention back to him. "Sir? Colonel? Can you hear me?" O'Neill moved his head slightly in response.
Daniel appeared and knelt beside her. "Is he okay .... my God, what the hell happened to him?"
O'Neill tried to lift his head and fell back with a moan of pain. Sam put a hand gently on his shoulder. "Don't try to move, sir. Just lie still. You're going to be okay." She looked up at Daniel. "Call the base, Daniel. We need a medical team up here right now."
As Daniel headed for the phone, O'Neill slowly opened his eyes and focussed with difficulty on his second in command. "Carter?"
"Yes, sir. You're going to be okay, sir." She repeated. "Just try to lay still. There's an ambulance on its way." She reached out and took his hand, and his fingers closed tightly round hers.
"I was there," he whispered.
"Where, sir?" she responded, confused.
"Iraq. The prison. I was back there. It was real, it happened just like it did before ...." his words ended in a cough that obviously sent pain stabbing through his chest.
"Just lay still, sir, don't try to talk." Sam reached out with her other hand, stroking his hair softly. He moved his face into her touch and closed his eyes again. Sam continued to hold his hand and run her hand soothingly through his hair, until the ambulance arrived.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"He was badly beaten, but there's no permanent damage." Doctor Janet Fraiser announced to the remaining members of SG-1 who waited anxiously in her office, along with General Hammond, for her report on Colonel O'Neill's condition.
Daniel smiled broadly while Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Even Teal'c's rigid stance relaxed slightly. "Are you sure, Janet?" Sam asked. "He looked pretty bad to me."
"He has several bruised ribs, one broken. Fortunately it didn't puncture a lung and it'll heal quickly enough. Severe abdominal bruising but no internal bleeding. His face is a mess, but nothing's broken and none of the wounds should leave any scarring," She paused. "I'm not saying this isn't serious - he's in a lot of pain and probably will be for several days. But it could have been a lot worse. He was lucky."
"Lucky isn't the word I'd have chosen, Doctor," General Hammond said grimly. "Can we talk to him?"
Janet shook her head. "Not just now. I've just gotten him comfortable and he's heavily sedated. He should sleep for several hours. When he wakes up, you can see him if he's feeling up to it."
Hammond nodded reluctantly and looked around the room at the other members of SG-1. "So, can any of you throw any light on what happened to Colonel O'Neill?"
"I looked round the house while we were waiting for the ambulance to arrive," Daniel said. He didn't mention that he'd done so as an excuse to leave the room, to allow Sam some time alone with Jack. "There was no sign of forced entry. The only suggestion that Jack put up any kind of a fight was the overturned lamp on the floor."
"I've sent a team out to go through the house again," Hammond said. "If there's anything to find, they'll find it."
"It appears that O'Neill allowed the intruder into his house willingly," Teal'c suggested. "That would tell us that his assailant was someone he knew."
"But, who?" Sam asked.
Daniel shrugged. "There are a few people out there who have reason to hate him."
"But why now?"
"When was the last time any of you saw him?" the General asked.
"He went home soon after the debriefing yesterday," Daniel said.
"That was about fifteen hours ago." Janet said. She hesitated, not sure whether to mention what was on her mind. "There's something else ...."
"Go on, Doctor," Hammond prompted.
"Well, if I didn't know it was impossible, I'd have to say that not all of these injuries were sustained on the same occasion. Some of the bruising looks much older - two days at least, while some of the bruises are fairly recent. I'd say his condition was the result of several beatings, that took place over a period of two-three days."
Her words were greeted with a puzzled silence. "Doctor Fraiser, are you saying that he may have sustained some of these injuries two days ago and not said anything?" General Hammond demanded.
She shook her head. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm just telling you what the medical evidence seems to indicate. I don't think he'd have been able to hide that kind of damage anyway - he'd have been in too much pain, and I'm assuming none of you noticed anything wrong with him? "
The remaining members of SG-1 exchanged glances.
"Jack's been a bit .... testy .... for the past few days, but I didn't get the impression he was in pain as such," Daniel ventured.
"I agree," Sam added. "He's been irritable, but we assumed that was because he's been so tired. He said he hasn't been sleeping too well."
"None of this makes any sense." Hammond turned to Sam. "Major Carter, did he say anything when you found him?"
Sam shook her head. "He was pretty much out of it, sir. Wait ...." she went on slowly, "there was something; he said, he was back in Iraq. In the prison. Just like before ...."
"In Iraq? What was he talking about?" Daniel asked.
"I don't know," Sam replied. "That was all he said."
"He spent four months in an Iraqi prison during the Gulf war," General Hammond explained quietly. "He must be referring to that." He had read O'Neill's file and knew the horrors his officer had endured in that place. "But that doesn't make sense. It happened over ten years ago. Was he dreaming?"
"Maybe he's been having nightmares about his time in prison," Daniel suggested. "That might be why he hasn't been sleeping."
"That would not explain his physical condition." Teal'c interjected.
"No, no, it wouldn't." Hammond agreed.
"That's true," Doctor Fraiser added, "But I think you should talk to him about it. I don't see any way a dream could account for injuries like these, but anything that's disturbing him psychologically could impede his physical recovery."
"Very well," the General stated firmly. "There's nothing more we can do right now. The mission to PJ5-494 is cancelled until further notice. Doctor Fraiser, I want you to inform me the moment you feel Colonel O'Neill is in a fit state to talk to us."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Six hours later General Hammond had his opportunity to question his senior officer. O'Neill was sitting up in bed, still woozy from the medication, but lucid enough to talk. The General settled himself in a chair beside the bed.
"Jack, can you tell me what happened?"
O'Neill's face clouded with a look of confusion. "I got home last night," he began slowly, "fixed some supper, crashed out on the couch in front of the TV. I guess I must have nodded off. I think I remember waking up - hurting like hell. I tried to get up, knocked a lamp off the table, ended up on the floor. The next thing I remember is hearing Carter's voice. Except ...."
"Except what, Jack?" Hammond prompted, when it became evident that O'Neill was not going to continue.
Jack hesitated, he didn't want to talk about the dreams. Bringing back the memories was bad enough, without having to talk about them.
Hammond wasn't about to let it go. "Jack, Major Carter told me you said something about, 'being back in the prison.' What did you mean?"
O'Neill sighed. He always had been a loud mouth and it looked like Carter was an even bigger one. "I dreamed .... I was back in prison in Iraqi. It was very vivid, it felt real. I .... I've .... been having dreams about it all week. Can't seem to shake them."
"Son, can you tell me exactly what the dream was about?" Hammond asked quietly.
Jack turned his face away. "No," he replied shortly. "It wasn't important. It was just a dream."
Hammond decided to leave the issue for now; there was another potentially thorny question he needed to ask. "Jack, Doctor Fraiser says that in her medical opinion, not all of your injuries were sustained on the same occasion. She thinks some of the injuries happened two days ago, not fifteen hours."
"She thinks WHAT?!" O'Neill shot upright, then groaned and lowered himself slowly back onto the pillows. "Big mistake, must remember - fast movement is not good. I don't understand, sir. The Doc must have made a mistake."
"She doesn't think so, Jack. Is there anything you can tell me that could explain her findings?"
"With all due respect, sir," O'Neill answered, his voice rising indignantly, "I think I'd have noticed if someone had come into my house and beaten me up!" He winced, speaking was difficult with a cut lip, shouting even harder. "Certainly noticed this time," he added in a mumble.
"Alright. I'll leave you to rest now, Jack." Hammond said quietly. "Doctor Fraiser says there's no permanent damage, we'll have you up and around in no time. And we'll find out who did this to you."
Jack nodded slightly and closed his eyes as the General prepared to leave. Hammond glanced towards the doorway. "Jack, if you feel up to it, there are a few people out there who are pretty anxious to see you."
O'Neill opened his eyes again. He was tired and in more pain than he'd willingly admit, but he knew that his team would be anxious to see him and there was something he was anxious to say to them. "Send them in, sir."
Sam, Daniel and Teal'c came into the room, positioning themselves around his bedside.
"How are you feeling O'Neill?" Teal'c enquired.
"Like I've been run over by a MALP," O'Neill quipped. Sam smiled at his small attempt at humour, it had been sadly lacking over the past couple of days.
"Look, kids," Jack continued awkwardly. "I know I've been a real bear over the past few days. I've been impossible to live with, and I apologise. Especially to you, Danny boy. It wasn't your fault those rocks on PK-571 turned out to be ...."
"Rocks." Daniel finished for him, with a slight smile. "It's okay, Jack, you were right. It was a monumental waste of time."
O'Neill smiled slightly. "Well, maybe the real 'monuments' are somewhere else. I'll see if I can persuade the General to let us go back and take another look around."
"Thanks," Daniel said. "That would be great."
It became obvious within a few minutes that the Colonel was struggling to keep awake, so Sam shepherded the others out of the room and into Janet's office where they found the General and the Doctor.
Hammond quickly filled the others in on his conversation with O'Neill. "I have the feeling that there's something the Colonel isn't telling us," he added.
Sam frowned. "I don't think he's deliberately withholding any facts, sir. But I think there's more to this dream business than meets the eye."
General Hammond nodded his agreement. "Major, I'm giving you the job of finding out what's going on. Talk to him, get him to open up to you."
More chance of getting a clam to open its jaws, Sam thought to herself silently. Out loud she said, "Yes, sir. I'll do my best."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sam barely slept that night, unable to get the Colonel out of her mind and it was still early the following morning when she returned to the infirmary. Janet said there was no reason she couldn't sit with the Colonel for a while, provided she didn't tire him.
Janet didn't comment on her friend's eagerness to see her commanding officer. Although Sam had never discussed it with her directly, the Doctor was fairly sure she knew how Sam felt about the Colonel. Sam's desperation during the time Jack had been trapped on Edora had been a pretty good indication, although Janet had never managed to get Sam to admit to the way she felt. The Doctor had also witnessed the Colonel's admission during the Za'tarc testing that he cared more for his second in command than he should, so she knew Sam's feelings were reciprocated. Even knowing that regulations forbade a relationship between the two, Janet wasn't about to overlook an opportunity for them to spend time together, even if one of them was in a hospital bed.
As she approached the bed, Sam could see that O'Neill's eyes were closed and she thought he was still asleep. She sat down quietly, not wanting to disturb him.
"Hey, Carter."
She smiled. "Good morning, sir. I thought you were asleep. You had your eyes closed - how did you know it was me?"
He opened his eyes and gazed at her. "I just knew. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"No, sir," she replied cheerfully. "Nothing at all. Just thought you might like some company."
"I appreciate the thought, but I should warn you, I'm not feeling too sociable right now."
"I understand, sir." She responded. "We don't have to talk. I'll just sit with you for a while, if that's okay."
She was afraid he'd protest, but he didn't. She had the feeling that he didn't want to be alone.
"Carter."
"Yes, Colonel?"
"I didn't get a chance to thank you, for yesterday."
"What for, sir?"
He continued awkwardly, looking down at his hands rather than at her, "I was pretty confused when I came round. Having you there .... it helped."
Sam flushed. "You're welcome, sir."
He closed his eyes again and was quiet for so long, Sam was beginning to wonder if he'd gone back to sleep. Then he said softly, "Do you get bad dreams, Major?"
"Sometimes. I guess we all do."
"Do they seem real to you?"
"At the time, I suppose," she replied. "But they're usually a bit surreal, too, so somewhere at the back of my mind I kind of know they're just a dream."
He turned his head until he was facing her, his expression somewhat hesitant. She knew he needed to talk, but she also knew how hard it was for him to open up to anyone, so she decided to help him along. "The dreams you've been having, sir, are they different to the usual kind?" He nodded slowly and she waited patiently until he was ready to go on.
"Ten years ago I spent some time in an Iraqi prison."
"I know, sir," Sam said cautiously. "General Hammond mentioned it. You've .... you've never talked about it."
"It's not an easy thing to talk about, Major. I generally try to forget."
She nodded, understanding and waited patiently for him to continue. After a moment, he took a deep breath and went on. "When I was first released from the prison I had nightmares every night. After a while, they came less often. Now I only get them once in a while. This week - this week it's been different. I've been dreaming about it every night. I feel like I'm really there. Everything happens exactly as it did before. It smells real, sounds real - the pain feels real ...." he broke off.
After a moment's silence, Sam asked tentatively, "Sir, can you tell me what you dreamt about last night?"
"I dreamt .... I dreamt about the first week I was there. When they started the interrogations."
"Was it .... did they hurt you?" she asked hesitatingly.
He nodded slowly.
"A beating, like this?"
He nodded again, shortly. A small pinprick of light began to glimmer in Sam's mind. "Sir, a couple of days ago you came in with a bruise on your jaw. Can you remember what you dreamt about that night?"
"Why?" He raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"Sir, try and remember. I think it might be important."
Jack thought back. It wasn't difficult, he could remember each dream vividly. "I dreamt about when I was captured."
"And .... did someone hit you?"
"I .... one of the guards hit me in the face with a rifle butt. I woke up with a bruise on my jaw the size of ...." He stopped abruptly, light dawning. "Hell, Sam, what's happening to me?" he whispered.
Sam was shocked at the look of raw fear on his face. Without conscious thought, she reached out and took his hand. Immediately his fingers tightened around hers. She said firmly, "I don't know what's happening, sir, but we're going to find out and we're going to stop it. I promise." As she said the words, she knew she had no right to promise that. She had no idea what was going on, nor how to stop it. But her words seemed to reassure him and he relaxed slightly. She sat with him a while longer, until he fell back asleep, then she went to report to the General.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two days later O'Neill was allowed out of the infirmary, but confined to base on light duties. The circumstances of the attack on him were still a mystery, nothing had been discovered to point to the identity of the intruder, or even to indicate that anyone had entered the house at all. Sam and Daniel had spent hours going through files of past missions but everyone knew it was pretty hopeless. There was general agreement that the attack must have been carried out by someone on Earth as there was no way an intruder could have come undetected through the Stargate. But the attacker could have been anyone from Jack's past with black ops and all of those mission logs were classified. Hammond had ordered a surveillance on the Colonel's home, with the vain hope that the attacker would return, but there had been no sign. Janet had wondered if O'Neill had been drugged, which would explain the dreams and the fact that he had no memory of the attack on him, but there was no trace of anything in his blood stream. The dreams had stopped since the attack and Hammond had begun to face the fact that they might never know what had happened.
The other members of SG-1 had accompanied other teams on routine missions, while O'Neill, confined to base both for health and security reasons, had divided his time between trying to catch up on a mountain of paperwork and driving to distraction anyone who came within ten meters of him. Although he complained bitterly that he didn't need to be treated like 'a damned invalid', he had to admit to himself if no-one else that he wasn't fit for duty. He was still so damned tired and in a lot more pain than he'd ever let on. His team spent their evenings with him, trying to keep his mind off his situation.
On the third night since the Colonel had been released from the infirmary, Sam was in her lab, working late on a new device SG-3 had brought back with them on their last mission, and Teal'c was in his quarters meditating. Daniel and Jack were playing cards in Jack's quarters. As usual, Jack was winning. "If I could just work out how you manage to cheat!" Daniel exclaimed, throwing his cards down in frustration as he lost another round.
O'Neill looked at him innocently. "I don't cheat, Daniel. You're just crap at poker."
Daniel had to concede, he was crap at poker, but he was still convinced that Jack was cheating. "Want to call it a night?" he asked, as O'Neill yawned hugely.
"One more round?"
"Okay. But this time, we're playing checkers."
"Sure, fine, whatever you want," Jack replied. He got up, stretched carefully and lowered himself gingerly onto the edge of the bed. "But I'll beat you at that too!"
Daniel ignored the comment. "Want some coffee?"
"Sure."
When Daniel returned with the coffee he found his commanding officer stretched out on the bed, fast asleep. The younger man grinned at the sight, then sat down again and picked up his book. He'd stay for a short while, just to make sure Jack was okay.
Over an hour later, Daniel looked up from his book. Jack was still sleeping, but seemingly not too peacefully. The archaeologist could see his eyes moving restlessly behind his eyelids. Daniel looked at his watch - midnight. For some reason, he didn't feel right about leaving his friend just now. Maybe he'd settle down in the armchair for the night, then pretend he'd fallen asleep reading his book. But first, he needed another coffee.
This time, when he returned, there was no sign of O'Neill. Daniel called Jack's name, checking the bathroom when he received no answer, but there was no sign of his friend. Becoming alarmed, the archaeologist left the room, quickly making a search of the various places Jack might have gone. There was no point in alerting security unnecessarily. When he returned to O'Neill's quarters, Jack was back, laying on the bed as before. Daniel blinked and shook his head vigorously. Had he dreamed it? Had Jack been there all along and it was he, Daniel, who was going mad?
He approached the bed cautiously and then realised with sickening certainty that he had imagined nothing. Jack's clothing was dishevelled, his shirt torn open at the front. Daniel knew that something terrible had happened to the Colonel in those few minutes that he'd been missing.
Fighting back a wave of panic, the archaeologist moved to the desk and picked up the phone, dialling the infirmary. After a few rings the phone was picked up. "Infirmary."
Daniel was relieved that it was Janet who answered. "Janet it's Daniel ...."
"What's happened?"
"I think you'd better come down to Colonel O'Neill's quarters right away. He's .... he's been hurt."
"On my way. You'd better call the General."
Daniel called General Hammond's home number and briefly explained what had happened. The General immediately ordered that the base be put on red alert. Daniel put down the phone and within minutes Doctor Fraiser entered the room, followed by a medical team, Sam and Teal'c.
"What happened, Daniel?" Sam asked anxiously. "Is the Colonel okay?"
Daniel simply shook his head, his eyes fixed on the figure laying on the bed. Fraiser knelt beside the still form. "Colonel? Colonel, are you .... Daniel, what the hell happened here?" Not waiting for an answer, she barked, "Get the stretcher over here now!"
Sam pushed forward. "What is it, Janet? What's wrong with him?" Sam paled as she caught a good look at the Colonel. His skin was deathly white, except for what looked like a burn on his forehead. Where it was exposed by the open shirt, the skin on his chest showed similar signs of burning. One arm was hung limply over the edge of the couch and she could see that the wrist was raw and bleeding. As she watched, a drop of blood fell to the floor.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"He's been tortured." Barely able to contain her anger, Fraiser stated the fact flatly, feeling it was better to just come out with it than to beat about the bush. The four people sitting around the briefing room table greeted her words in shocked silence. "If I had to take a stab at a reconstruction," she went on, "I'd say they hung him from his wrists while they practised a crude form of electric shock treatment on him. Both wrists are raw, shoulders badly strained. He has second and third degree burns on his body where the electrodes burnt into his flesh. The muscles and tissue in his legs and chest are severely bruised. He's in a lot of pain, and will be for some time until the muscles begin to heal. And if I didn't know he's only been gone for an hour, I'd say this took place over two to three days."
There was a stunned silence as everyone tried to take in what she had said. Teal'c was the first to recover. "This is the act of a coward, a man with no honour," he stated, his face dark with anger.
Hammond nodded. "I agree, Teal'c. And we're going to stop him, whoever he is. Doctor Fraiser, how long before we can talk to Colonel O'Neill?"
"I have him heavily sedated and on some pretty heavy weight pain killers - he's in a lot of pain. I'd rather you left him to rest for a while."
Hammond agreed, reluctantly. "Doctor, what's his prognosis?"
"He'll recover physically. The burns will heal, his muscles just need time to get over the trauma. But, General, this on top of his previous injuries - I don't think he could survive another round like this - physically or emotionally."
Hammond turned to Sam. "Major Carter, do you have a theory on what happened in here?"
Although Sam was still reeling from Janet's report, she tried to keep the emotion out of her voice as she answered. "Well, Daniel says that Colonel O'Neill was only gone from the room for twenty minutes at the most. It wouldn't have been physically possible for an intruder to have done ...." her voice faltered for a moment, "what he did .... in such a short time. My guess is that the Colonel was transported .... somewhere .... by some kind of energy beam. And whoever is doing this has the technology to transport not only from one place to another, but from one time to another."
Hammond took a moment to inwardly digesting what she was saying, before commenting, "That's some theory, Major."
"I know," Sam agreed, "But it would explain Doctor Fraiser's contradictory medical findings both this time and before - that not all the injuries were sustained on the same occasion. Although it appears to us that the Colonel disappeared and returned almost immediately, in actual fact he could have been gone for several days, but simply returned to the same 'time' he left."
"And if the dreams he had in the beginning weren't dreams at all and the same thing happened - that would explain the tiredness," Doctor Fraiser continued.
"Major Carter, do you have any way of proving this theory of yours?" Hammond asked.
"Maybe," Sam nodded. "There's something I'd like to check out." She turned to Fraiser. "Janet, did you get a CAT scan?"
Janet nodded. "After the first time, I wanted to make sure there wasn't any head trauma."
"And you didn't find anything abnormal on the scan?"
Janet shook her head.
"Do you think we could look at the scan again?"
"Sure. If you think it will help." Janet looked at the General.
He shrugged. "Anything is worth a try at this point. In the meantime, are there any other avenues we can explore?"
"This all began after we returned from PX-32154." Teal'c stated. "Is it possible that something on that planet could have affected O'Neill?"
"I can't see what," Daniel said. "We spent all our time in the caves, saw no signs of life," he shrugged. "You've read the report sir."
"Still," Hammond said, "I agree with Teal'c. It's worth taking another look at the place. I'll send SG-3 first thing in the morning."
"Sir, I was thinking, we could contact the Tok'ra." Sam suggested. "They could have come across a race with this kind of technology in their travels and may know something that would help."
Hammond nodded. "That's smart thinking, Major." He put his papers together with an air of finality. "Alright. Let's leave it there for now. Dr Jackson, Teal'c, I'd like you to contact the Tok'ra. Make sure they understand that this is urgent. Major, Doctor, lets go check out those scans. I want answers and I want them now!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Sam, General, you're not going to believe this." Janet Fraiser held up one of the scans. "I've just had this section magnified 200%. This time, I thought I could see something, so I had that area magnified again. Take a look at this." She showed them another scan of a small part of the brain. There, in the center, was a small dark spot. "I did a few more magnifications, and I'm pretty sure it's a microchip. So minute, it would be impossible to see with the naked eye."
"That's what I thought we might find," Sam said. "All transportation devices have to have some kind of signal to home in on."
"Can you get it out?" Hammond asked.
Janet shook her head slowly. "It's buried very deep. I could kill him if I start messing around in there."
"If it does emit a homing signal," Hammond asked, "how is it triggered?"
"I have a theory on that," Janet said. "As far as we can see, every time he's been taken, it's been when he's asleep, right?" The others nodded. "Did Daniel mention whether or not Colonel O'Neill was sleeping peacefully just before he disappeared?"
"I believe he mentioned that the Colonel seemed restless," Hammond responded.
"That makes sense. If I'm right, he was taken when he was in REM sleep. What if the device in his brain is activated via a very particular brain wave pattern? REM sleep produces fast low-voltage brain waves - the EEG in REM sleep is very much like in the awake state, with lots of beta rhythm, but also very distinctive."
"If you're right, Doctor Fraiser, can we stop him being taken by preventing him going into REM sleep?" Hammond asked.
Janet nodded slowly. "If we monitor him, we'll be able to plot when he's going into REM sleep. If we wake him in time, before the transmitter begins to transmit, we should be able to prevent him being taken, yes. But that's just a short term solution. He's already totally exhausted. REM sleep usually begins 80-90 minutes into the sleep cycle. If we keep waking him up every couple of hours, he isn't going to keep going for long."
"It might just buy us enough time to find another way." General Hammond stated. He looked at his watch. "It's 0300. I want everyone to try and get some sleep. I have a feeling that we have a long few days ahead of us."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The following morning Janet reluctantly agreed that one member of the team could go in and see the Colonel. Sam was elected unanimously and she didn't bother to question why, she was too anxious to see her CO.
"Hi, sir," she said softly, sitting down gingerly on the chair next to the bed. He was half asleep, groggy from the pain killers and sedatives coursing through his veins.
"Hey, Carter," his voice was weak and slightly slurred. "What've I done this time?"
"Sir, can you remember what happened?"
Yes, he could remember. He closed his eyes as the memories flooded back.
Hanging helplessly, suspended from chains attached to a metal ring in the ceiling, shoulders aching fiercely, biting pain in his wrists where the metal cuffs cut into his skin. Watching as they taped electrodes to his chest, groin, thighs and calves. Wires connecting the electrodes, leading off somewhere out of his sight. Unable to tear his eyes away from the small black box with the lever the Iraqi held in his hand. Knowing that once the lever was lowered, the circuit would be closed and current would move through the wires to the electrodes. Knowing already how it would feel as the current burnt through his body like acid. The smile of sadistic pleasure on the Iraqi's face as he slowly lowered the lever, his own unstoppable scream of agony as his body jerked violently in response to the white hot bolts of current ripping into his flesh. Gasping for breath, knowing that the pain was only going to get worse ....
"Colonel!" Carter's voice, raised in alarm. "JANET!"
Footsteps. "Colonel! Dammit, he's going to hyperventilate!" Dimly he could hear Dr Fraiser's voice, urgently urging him to breath, deep and slow, "That's it, Colonel, just take it easy ...."
He opened his eyes and found a pair of blue and a pair of brown eyes looking at him anxiously. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Guess I lost it a bit there."
"It's okay, sir." Sam said softly. "We can talk later. You need to get some rest."
She moved to get up, but felt a hand on her arm. His eyes were closed, but she clearly heard the whisper. "Stay with me." Swallowing against a sudden lump in her throat, Sam looked questioningly at Janet, who nodded understandingly and moved away. Sam settled herself more comfortably in the chair and took hold of her CO's hand, careful to avoid the bandaging around his wrist. This was the third time in four days that she'd found herself holding his hand, she mused to herself. She was beginning to like it, feeling way too warm inside at the thought that it was her he wanted to stay with him, she was the one who could offer him some comfort. And she was determined to do anything she must to help him through this and to hell with regulations.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
While Sam was with O'Neill, Teal'c and Daniel began to run through SG1's mission logs for the past six months. The idea was to isolate all the missions where the team had met with opposition of some kind. After an hour of working in silence, Daniel threw down the file he was reading in frustration. "It's impossible! We don't even know what we're looking for!" he cried in exasperation.
Teal'c nodded in agreement. "It is indeed a difficult task. But one we must pursue if we are to help O'Neill."
Daniel sighed, Teal'c was right. With no other leads, they had nowhere else to turn.
Eventually, they were left with ten files of possibilities, but were still no closer to finding any answers.
"Okay, let's look at this another way," Daniel said. "We've isolated all the people we think might have cause to hate Jack enough to try and get revenge, right?"
Teal'c nodded slowly.
"So, now let's go through them again and see which of them might have the technology to do it."
"That is logical thinking Daniel Jackson."
"Okay, let's see. First of all, are you absolutely sure it couldn't be a Goa'uld?"
Teal'c thought for a moment. "I do not think so," he said eventually. "I have never come across a Goa'uld who would go to these lengths. They take their revenge in a more immediate manner."
"Fine. Let's move on, then. Next, we have the Xarians. They definitely wouldn't have the technology. Ditto the Tolaarites. So, we're left with these three. How about this one. PK-956. That was the world where we freed the people from ...." Daniel stopped speaking abruptly, memories of the final few hours on the planet flooding back. And suddenly, he was sure he knew who was behind this - Sm'tel.
The mission to PK-956 had been eventful. It wasn't every day you got to depose a tyrannical ruler who had arrived on the planet one day and had used advanced technology to subjugate the people. SG-1's arrival had changed all that, as they'd persuaded the Ontarans that Sm'tel wasn't a god, but simply a greedy, power crazy intruder who should be sent back where he came from - where ever that was. Unfortunately, they had never had time to find out. The people had risen up again Sm'tel and in the ensuing fight, Sm'tel had escaped in the space craft they had discovered, too late, was hidden on the grounds of the palace. But it was the final few minutes before Sm'tel's escape that Daniel remembered with foreboding.
"He's getting away!" Jack whirled at Daniel's shout. Sure enough, in all the confusion, Sm'tel had almost reached his spacecraft.
"Sm'tel!" Jack bellowed, hurtling after him. Sm'tel spun and fired. Jack flung himself to the side, rolling until he reached the cover of a rocky outcrop. "Give it up, Sm'tel!"
"Never! This isn't over, O'Neill. You've destroyed my life, and you're going to pay."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell it someone who gives a damn." Sm'tel fired again. Jack ducked down and by the time he'd brought the zat up, Sm'tel had disappeared into the spacecraft. Jack got to his feet and fired at the craft in frustration.
"Daniel Jackson? Is there something wrong?"
Daniel came back to the present, aware that Teal'c was staring at him in concern. "Sorry, Teal'c. I was just remembering .... I think I know who's doing this. I'm sure it's Sm'tel. The last thing he said before he escaped was that Jack was going to pay for freeing the Ontarans from his rule."
Teal'c nodded. "His technology is very advanced. Otherwise he would not have been able to subjugate the people for so long. We also did not have an opportunity to see the full extent of the technology on his spacecraft. It is very possible that he would have the use of a transportation device."
"We'd better go see the General."
At that moment an aid poked his head into the room. "General Hammond wants to see you both in the briefing room. The Tok'ra are here."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jacob Carter knew there was something seriously wrong when his daughter gave him just a perfunctory hug and immediately began dragging him towards the briefing room. General Hammond stood and shook his hand. "Thank you for responding so quickly, Jacob."
"The message sounded important," Jacob replied. "Want to fill me in?" He listened thoughtfully as General Hammond quickly explained the situation and then asked to see the scan of the device. He lowered his head to study it and when he raised it, it was Selmak who spoke. "We've come across a similar situation before," he nodded. "A member of an unknown race, calling himself 'the protector'."
"The protector ...." Daniel said slowly. "Tell us what you know about him." Selmak explained all he knew about 'the protector' and his habit of forcing himself on underdeveloped planets, posing as a god. By the end of his description, Daniel was even more convinced that he knew the identity of the attacker. "It's Sm'tel. It all fits. He had extremely advanced technology. And he blamed Jack for his defeat."
"Can you remove the device?" Sam asked.
Selmak shook his head. "It might be possible but the risk would be unacceptable, there is too much danger of damaging the brain in the process. Your best chance is to locate Sm'tel and force him to remove it. If he has the technology to put the device there in the first place, he must have the technology to remove it as well."
"So - how do we locate him?" Daniel asked.
"Tok'ra ships are equipped with advanced scanning technology. I will return to our headquarters for my ship. We can do a scanner sweep which should detect any other ship within a reasonable transport distance of earth."
"How long will it take you to get here?" Sam asked.
Selmak smiled. "Fortunately the Tok'ra's current headquarters is located on a planet quite close to your solar system. It will take me less than thirty six hours if I leave immediately."
General Hammond stood. "Then we won't delay you. We're grateful, Selmak, for your assistance."
Sam and Daniel accompanied Selmak to the gate room and watched in silence as he disappeared through the wormhole, both aware that there was nothing to do now but wait.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next twenty four hours passed slowly for the team. Jack was pretty much out of it for most of the time. Doctor Fraiser kept a constant watch on her patient, ensuring that someone was with him continually checking the monitors, always aware that while he slept there was a chance that the transportation device might be activated. Sam spent as much time at his bedside as she could. Although he wasn't often aware of her presence, it made her feel better to be there with him. She didn't need to try and hide her concern from the others, the same concern was evident on each of their faces and in the increasing sense of frustration they all felt.
The next day Jack's condition had improved considerably; so much so that Doctor Fraiser allowed the whole team to sit with him for a short time. As Sam sat down by his bedside, she noticed with relief that he seemed much more alert and had a little more color in his face than the previous day.
"Hi, Colonel," she said. "You're looking better."
"Ya think?" he replied hopefully. "Can you tell the Doc that? She won't let me out of here!"
Sam smiled. "I don't think you're quite ready for that yet," she said. "But Doctor Fraiser did hint that she might let you out in a day or two if you behave yourself and continue to heal nicely."
O'Neill made a face that reflected his disgust at the timescale, then asked, "Carter, are you experiencing a certain feeling of deja vu right about now?"
She grinned, despite herself; he'd obviously made a decision that this thing wasn't going to beat him. If there was one thing the Colonel had, it was guts.
"I must admit, sir," she replied, "you do seem to be breaking your record of visits to the infirmary in one stretch. Something going on we should know about?"
"Yup, I just have this fetish for IV's, can't get enough of them. So - you guys got something to tell me? The Doc keeps hinting that you're making progress, but she won't tell me anything. I'm just guessing here, but I assume you have a theory?"
"Er ... yes, sir, as a matter of fact, we do," Sam replied.
O'Neill raised an interrogative eyebrow.
Sam was suddenly serious, wondering how he was going to take the news. "Sir .... what's the last thing you remember?"
"See - it's deja vu. Sat down for a rest, must have dozed off, woke up like this, yadda, yadda, yadda."
"What is a yadda, O'Neill?" Teal'c enquired.
"It's an expre ..... oh, never mind." Despite his valiant attempts at normalcy, they could all see that he was tense, wondering what they had to tell him.
Sam and Daniel exchanged glances. There was no way round this but to come straight out with the truth. Daniel sighed, pushed his glasses firmly up his nose, and said, "We know you haven't just been dreaming, Jack. These things really have been happening to you." He paused, needing to choose his words carefully. "Jack, I stayed with you last night after you dozed off, just to make sure .... um, because I wanted to finish reading my book. After about an hour, I went to make coffee, and when I came back you were gone. I went to look for you and when I came back you were there again, but you .... you'd been .... " he broke off, unsure how to continue.
"I don't understand," Jack said uneasily, after a moment of silence, confusion obvious in expression.
"Neither do we, sir," Sam said, " but we do have a theory."
"I'm all ears," O'Neill responded.
Teal'c raised a questioning eyebrow and opened his mouth. Daniel mouthed, "I'll explain later."
Sam took a deep breath. "I think you were taken - somewhere - by some kind of transportation beam."
It took O'Neill a moment to absorb the meaning of her words, then he said slowly, "Like .... beam me up, Scotty?"
"Yes," Sam nodded vigorously, "Exactly like that." She studied his face closely as she spoke, trying to gauge his reaction. He was quiet for a moment and when he finally responded, his voice was calm enough and his face expressionless, but Sam was sure the news must have shaken him considerably.
"Yeah, well, correct me if I'm wrong," he said, "but apart from Thor and his gang, the Goa'uld are the only race we've come across who can move people from one place to another, and they need the transportation rings to do it, right?"
"Right," Daniel agreed. "But that isn't to say that there isn't someone or some other race out there with a similar technology. And we're pretty sure we know who it is." He quickly filled Jack in on their theory about Sm'tel, and Selmak's subsequent confirmation of this.
"Sm'tel?" Jack asked slowly, struggling to come to terms with what he was hearing. "I agree, he has cause to hate me, but .... I don't understand. Where does the whole Iraq thing fit in?"
"We're not sure," Sam admitted. "But my guess is some kind of holographic projection that made you believe you really were back in the prison. And the length of time you were there ...." She hesitated, knowing that he had to be told about the device in his brain, but pretty sure he wouldn't take the news too well.
"What, Carter? There's something else, isn't there?" O'Neill asked, noticing her hesitation.
"Yes, sir, there is. I .... on a hunch, I asked Janet to take another look at your CAT scan .... " She explained their findings, holding her breath as she finished.
She was right. As the meaning of her words became clear, Jack's face darkened in anger. "YOU'RE TELLING ME THIS ..... THIS ....... MORON PUT A .... A THING IN MY HEAD?" he shouted, sitting up quickly despite Sam's exclamation of alarm. A moment later he groaned and closed his eyes as a wave of pain and nausea swept over him. Sam gently pushed him back against the pillows.
"Take it easy, sir. As far as we can tell, the device hasn't done any damage."
"Hasn't done any .... for crying out loud, Carter, it's a foreign object stuck in my brain!" he exploded. "Isn't that enough! It isn't supposed to be there! Why hasn't someone taken it out!"
"Doctor Fraiser thinks it would be too dangerous at the moment to consider removing it. We have to find another way."
"Okay." O'Neill sighed, anger subsiding abruptly. He suddenly felt incredibly tired, his head was beginning to pound and there wasn't one part of his body that wasn't sore or aching. "So, this .... device .... is sending a signal somewhere. Where, exactly, is 'somewhere'?"
Sam shrugged helplessly. "That's what we don't know. But my guess would be a ship in orbit around earth. General Hammond has people scanning the satellite radar for any sign of it."
"Jacob is due back any moment," Daniel added. "His ship is equipped with more powerful scanning technology than we have. If this ship is out there, he'll find it."
Jack nodded and closed his eyes.
"It is time to leave now." Teal'c said suddenly. He had been watching Jack closely and could see that his friend was near the end of his endurance. "O'Neill needs to rest. We will return later."
By the time his team had left the room, Jack was already asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sam returned several hours later to find her commanding officer awake and reading a newspaper in a desultory fashion.
Jack's face brightened as he saw his second in command approach. He was finding it difficult to stay alert for long periods of time, but while he was awake he found his mind constantly turning to Sm'tel and the prison. He couldn't stop himself imagining what was going to happen the next time he was taken and was ashamed at the terror the thoughts provoked.
Sam settled into the now familiar chair. She'd brought a pack of cards, knowing that O'Neill wasn't one to sit and chat at the best of times. As they played, O'Neill made a valiant attempt at being his usual, sarcastic self. But Sam could tell that finding out what was happening had shaken him badly. She wished he'd talk to her, tell her how he was feeling, allow her to see and share his fear.
She was suddenly overwhelmed by the strength of her feelings for this man. She had long ago learnt to control her feelings, to bury them so deep that usually she didn't have a problem controlling them. There was no way they could have a relationship, regulations strictly prohibited it, so there was no point dwelling on what couldn't be. On the odd occasion she allowed herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to feel his lips on hers, to have him make love to her, she'd sternly pushed aside the thoughts. She knew he cared about her too, that had been confirmed when they'd gone through the za'tarc testing, but it was futile to wish for something that was impossible.
It wasn't that hard, on a day to day basis. His very nature - reluctant to show his feelings, covering emotion with a joke - made it easier to keep their relationship at a safe level. There had been moments when he'd opened up, let her see his feelings. There was the time when they'd been captured by Hathor and he'd become a host to a newly mature Goa'uld. She'd never forget those few moments when she'd freed him from the cryogenic chamber, when he'd saved her from Hathor and finally rid them of that Goa'uld, when he'd held her tightly, needing the human contact and her reassurance that he was himself. Many times she'd glimpsed his pain when something or someone had reminded him of his dead son, but he never talked about it, never shared how much he still hurt. He was afraid to be vulnerable, afraid to let anyone else share his pain. Despite all of that, she longed to be able to help him, to be the person he felt he could open up to.
But nothing could stop her caring. Nothing stopped the feeling of dread deep inside every time he was in danger, every time he was injured. And it hurt her most of all that she couldn't show her concern in any demonstrative way. Yet she knew that he was aware of her feelings. Just as she knew, simply from the expression in his eyes as he looked at her sometimes, that he was just as concerned about her.
Now, seeing him like this, she let her own barriers down and allowed herself to feel. He was just as vulnerable as everyone else, and over the past few days she had seen his defences begin to fall, as the sheer futility of his situation began to wear him down. There was nothing he could do, no way he could prevent this. And Jack O'Neill was a man of action, he needed to be doing something, but all he could do was lay there and wait for them to take him again.
After an hour, Jack was obviously tiring and Sam suggested that he should get some rest. The fact that he agreed told her how much pain he must be in. He lay back carefully, catching his breath at a sudden shaft of pain that shot through him. "Sir, are you alright?" Sam asked anxiously. "Shall I get the nurse?"
"No," Jack replied faintly, "It'll pass. I've been through this before, remember. I know what to expect."
Sam was searching for some suitable response when he carried on abruptly, "I don't think I can do this again."
Sam waited quietly for him to go on and when he spoke again, it was in a voice tight with emotion. "The first time - it was bad, but after a while you learn to intellectualise the pain, to survive in any way you can. All the days in solitary - I used to spend hours thinking up ways to remodel the house. I'd plan it all, down to the last detail. The pain became part of life, I couldn't imagine what it was like without it. And I survived." Her heart bled at the pain and fear she saw in his face. "If we can't stop this, if they take me again, I don't think I can do it," he whispered. "Not again. Not knowing ...."
"Would it help to talk about the prison? About what happened there?" Sam asked the question tentatively, knowing that he had good reasons for never having spoken of his experiences before.
She was surprised when he responded, "I .... yeah, I think it would." Haltingly at first, but then with increasing confidence, he told her what had happened to him during his first few weeks in the prison, and a little of what he knew to expect if they were unable to stop him being taken again. She knew he deliberately left out a lot of the story, but from the little he did tell her she was able to imagine the horror of what he'd been through.
"Sir .... I promise you, I'm going to find a way to stop this. I'm not going to let them take you again." She said fiercely, trying to ignore the fact that this was the second time she'd made him a promise she knew she might not be able to keep. But she also knew that she was prepared to die trying. "Dad will be back soon, hopefully with the location of the ship. Why don't you try and get some rest?"
"I'm afraid to go to sleep," he whispered, looking away quickly, embarrassed at the admission.
Sam was stunned, that was the first time she'd ever heard Jack O'Neill admit he was afraid of anything and it scared her.
"I know, sir," she said helplessly. "But Janet's monitoring you, and at the first sign that you're slipping into REM sleep, she'll wake you up. That'll buy us some time."
She sat with him for a while longer, while he dozed, until Janet came into the ward and quietly told her that her father had returned.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"If there is a ship in orbit, it's well hidden." Selmak reported. "Some kind of advanced shielding, I suspect. We might be able to locate it, given time, but it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. I'm sorry, but I just can't justify the time required. My ship is needed for another mission in two days."
"So you're saying there's nothing you can do?" Sam's voice was tight.
Selmak glanced at her sharply, then bowed his head slightly. When he raised it to look at her again, it was her father who gazed at her, compassion in his eyes. He could see that outwardly she was calmly professional, but he knew his daughter and could tell she was battling to keep her emotions in check. He'd wondered for a long time if Sam's feelings for her commanding officer ran deeper than friendship, but it wasn't a subject he'd ever felt inclined to bring up. Nor did he feel it appropriate now. Instead, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sam. We're not giving up. We'll think of something."
"I've already thought of something."
Everyone turned at the sound of a familiar, though weak-sounding, voice. Jack O'Neill was standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the doorframe for support. As he spoke, he swayed and Teal'c strode quickly towards him, supporting the Colonel firmly as he led him to a chair. O'Neill sank into the chair carefully. Doctor Fraiser opened her mouth to ask how he'd managed to escape from the infirmary, then closed it again. He had the right to be here.
"General Hammond, there's only one option here." O'Neill said. "I have to let them take me again, somehow find a way to shut down the shields."
General Hammond shook his head amidst protests from the rest of the team. "I don't think that's a good idea, Colonel. It's too risky and you're physically in no condition to undertake a mission."
"What choice do I have? Janet can't keep me from sleeping for much longer." O'Neill looked at the doctor for confirmation.
Janet hesitated. "You're both right. General - Colonel O'Neill is in no condition even to be out of bed let alone undertake a mission." Turning to O'Neill, she frowned. "And yes, you're totally exhausted and you won't be able to keep going for much longer without proper sleep."
O'Neill turned back to the General. "If I go back, take a zat, I might have a chance to ...."
"No!" Sam interrupted heatedly. "Sir, it's likely that you're unconscious when you arrive there. They'll find the gun before you even wake up, they'll know we're on to them. You won't have a chance."
The expression on O'Neill's face told her that he already knew this. "What other choice is there?" he asked quietly.
Jacob said slowly, "It might work, but for a different reason."
Sam rounded on him. "It's too dangerous!"
"I understand your concern. However, it's likely that Sm'tel will have to de-cloak when the transportation system is operated. If that is the case, we will be able to detect him."
"That settles it, then. I'm going." O'Neill replied firmly.
"I've got another idea, sir," Sam said slowly. "We could try to send one of us with you. The transportation device is powerful, if someone was in physical contact with you when you were taken, they may get taken too. And there's a good chance that person would arrive conscious - it's probably the signal from the device that causes you to lose consciousness, rather than the actual act of transportation itself."
"She's got a point, General," Daniel interjected. "We all go through the Stargate without losing consciousness. There's no reason to assume that this will be any different."
O'Neill was shaking his head. "It's too big a risk."
General Hammond agreed. "I can see where you're coming from, Major, but you have no evidence to back up your theory, and no way of testing it without putting another member of the team at grave risk. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it."
"But General, sir ...." Sam began to protest, but the look on Hammond's face stopped her. She bit her lip. When the General had that look on his face, there was no arguing with him.
"Looks like I'm it, then," O'Neill said, looking hopefully at the General.
Hammond was silent for a moment. "I still don't like it, Jack."
"Neither do I, sir." Jack admitted. "But I can't lay in a hospital bed any longer, just waiting for them to take me. If I'm going, I'm at least going to go on my own terms."
After a moment Hammond nodded. "Alright. Let's do it. Jacob, why don't you get back to your ship, get in position."
Jacob nodded gravely. "The moment the ship de-cloaks, we'll detect it." He turned to O'Neill. "Good luck, Colonel."
"Thanks. Guess I'm gonna need it." O'Neill tried to get to his feet as Jacob left and swayed dangerously. Immediately, Teal'c was at his side supporting him.
"You, Colonel O'Neill, are going straight back to bed," Janet said sternly advancing on him threateningly. "If you're going to go through with this, you need to rest as much as you can."
"Whatever you say, Doc," O'Neill replied wearily. He looked across the room and caught the eye of his second in command. The expression on her face told him that she was afraid for him, but understood why he had to do this. He suddenly found himself having to swallow around a lump in his throat. Sam would probably never know, because he'd never have the guts to tell her, how much it had meant to him to have her close by over the past few days. Waking up on the floor of his house, confused and in pain, feeling her fingers stroking his hair, the warmth and strength of her hand tightly holding his. He knew he'd let down a few defences over the past few days, let her see a bit more of him than he'd usually allow, but he'd also realised how much he needed her. Then he looked away reluctantly as he remembered that this final part, he'd have to do alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Dammit!" O'Neill groaned in frustration. "I don't suppose you managed to secrete a flashlight on your person, as well as the zats?" he asked hopefully.
Carter smiled in the darkness. "Sorry, sir. I didn't think of that."
After a few moments their eyes adjusted to the darkness and they could just make out each other and objects in the room. O'Neill gestured towards the door with his zat. "Move out of the way, and get ready to cover me if there's someone out there. I'll try and blow the lock."
Sam moved quickly into position. "Ready, sir."
O'Neill took careful aim and fired. There was a flash and the door swung open. They made their way out cautiously, but there was no sign of anyone.
"Where to now, Carter?"
"Well, we have no way of knowing how much of this ship is part of the simulation, but I guess we can check that out as we go along. Sm'tel must have a control room, our best bet is to find that."
"Would I be right in thinking that the guards who went 'poof' were part of the simulation too?"
Sam nodded. "It's the most reasonable explanation. But outside of this area, we don't know how many real guards Sm'tel has, so we need to proceed cautiously."
"Hey, Carter, you know cautious is my middle name!" O'Neill commented wryly. Then he closed his eyes and swayed as a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him.
Sam grabbed his arm and steadied him. "Sir, I think you should rest for a while," she said, concern evident in her voice.
"No, I'm fine." He saw her sceptical look. "Alright, I'm not fine," he admitted. "I feel lousy. But I'm not ready to keel over yet, and we can't afford to waste any time. We need to move fast."
Sam nodded reluctantly, she knew he was right. They had no way of knowing if the cloaking device had been lowered when the transportation took place and if it hadn't, they would have to find the control room and knock it out themselves. Sam shot out the infrared light in the ceiling of the corridor and the grim prison scene was replaced by a hallway with a door at the end. Once through the doorway, they found themselves in what was obviously a reasonably sized spacecraft. O'Neill indicated that Sam should take point, knowing that in his condition his own reactions wouldn't be fast enough if they encountered trouble.
They moved forward cautiously, aware of no sound but the gentle humming of machinery. Twice Sam blew out what appeared to be security cameras in the walls. O'Neill watched as she took aim at the third, there was something different about that particular one, though. Realisation dawned and he yelled, "Carter, get down!" He dived towards her, throwing both of them to the ground just as the 'camera' let forth a burst of laser fire that burned a hole in the wall of the corridor directly opposite the spot Sam had been standing in moments before.
Shakily, Sam pulled herself up to her knees, then suddenly realised that her commanding officer was still down, curled up with his knees drawn up to his chest, clutching his ribs. His face was grey and she could see that he was biting into his lip to prevent himself crying out.
"Sir! What is it? Let me see!"
He shook her off. "I'll be .... okay .... in a minute. Jus' give me .... a minute!"
"Colonel! JACK!" That got his attention. "You have to let me take a look. Is it your ribs?"
He was breathing slightly easier now, the agony abating to a more manageable ache. "I fell on the broken rib, just hurt for a minute, that's all. Help me up, would you?"
Sam carefully helped him to a sitting position. "Maybe I should take the strapping off, check and see if you've done any further damage?"
He shook his head. "Even if I have, there's nothing you can do about it. I just need a minute to get my breath. Why don't you do a recon a bit further down the corridor? See if you can work out where the hell we are."
She nodded, reluctant to leave him, but knowing that it was the wisest course of action in the circumstances. She checked that he had his zat gun ready to fire. His eyes drifted shut and she ran a hand through his hair softly. "Hey, no going to sleep. You need to stay alert."
He opened his eyes again and smiled slightly. "Go. I'll try and be here when you get back."
When Sam had disappeared around the corner, O'Neill shifted into the least uncomfortable position he could find. The agony in his side had subsided enough that he felt he could at least function. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard the sound of boots stomping along the corridor. Immediately he slouched down on one side, eyes closed, gun concealed beneath his body and waited.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sam had found what she was sure was the command centre. There were no guards outside the doors, which surprised her. Maybe Sm'tel was running the ship with a skeleton crew. Then into the silence came the sound of weapons firing. As she raced back up the corridor she thought she heard the sound of a zat, but also an unfamiliar weapon. Filled with dread she poked her head cautiously round the corner.
There was one guard laying unconscious on the floor. Another was standing, arms above his head, eyes fixed on the gun an unsteady O'Neill had pointed at him.
Catching sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye, the Colonel said, "Welcome back, Major. Look what I caught us."
"I thought you were supposed to be resting," Sam responded and was rewarded with a tired grin.
"You know me, never was much good at down time."
"I think I've found the command centre," Sam went on.
"Good. Because I think I know how we're going to get into it."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"She did WHAT!" General Hammond exploded when Janet had finished her report on the incident she'd just witnessed.
"I .... I think it was a mistake, sir," Janet responded resolutely. "She was holding his hand, it all happened very quickly."
Hammond glared at the doctor for a few moments. He had his own thoughts on whether Major Carter had been transported by mistake. However, there was nothing to be done about it now and he just hoped that her presence would tip the scales in Colonel O'Neill's favour.
"What now, sir?" asked Daniel.
"Now, we wait."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After seeing the Colonel safely back to the infirmary, the rest of SG-1 gathered in Teal'c's quarters. Sam paced the room, Teal'c stood, arms folded, his face graver than ever. Daniel sat at the table, head resting in his hands.
"We can't let him do this, one of us has to go with him," Sam said finally, whirling to face her companions.
"General Hammond expressly forbid us to attempt to prove your theory, Major Carter." Teal'c commented expressionlessly.
"I know that. But do either of you think the Colonel has a chance here?"
Daniel looked up and shook his head. "I think Jack's desperate to do something, even if it's something that might get him killed, because it has to be better than living in fear as he is now."
"O'Neill has much courage." Teal'c stated.
"So, are we going to help him?" Sam demanded.
"Sam, you risk disciplinary action if you disobey a direct order."
"Daniel, I don't care. If it saves the Colonel's life, I'm willing to risk it."
"So what is your plan, Major Carter?" Teal'c asked.
"This is what we do ...."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dr Fraiser agreed to SG-1's request that their commanding officer not be left alone during this long night. Daniel spent the first couple of hours with him and at 2300 Teal'c took over. At 0200 Sam arrived to relieve the Jaffa.
As Sam approached the bed, Teal'c held up a warning hand. "He is asleep," he explained in a low voice.
"How did you manage that?" Sam whispered.
Teal'c shrugged. "He fell asleep as I was telling him some of the ancient myths amongst my people."
Sam swallowed a laugh. That would have done the trick alright.
"Do you wish me to remain, Major Carter?" Teal'c asked as he stood up, stretching to loosen cramped limbs.
"No, it would look suspicious. I've got it."
"Very well. I wish you luck."
Sam sat down and made herself comfortable. O'Neill seemed to be sleeping deeply. She reached out and grasped his hand firmly, he didn't stir. "It's going to be okay, Jack," she whispered softly. "And hopefully neither you nor General Hammond will recommend me for a court martial afterwards."
An hour later O'Neill started to become restless. Sam grasped his hand tighter.
Fraiser, watching from the other end of the ward, saw the red lights on the monitor flashing and a moment later, a blue light begin to form around O'Neill. "Sam!" she called urgently. "Let go of his hand!" Sam turned to look at her, an unreadable expression on her face, and then the blue light was gone, and with it both the Colonel and his second in command. Janet cursed under her breath and reached for the phone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After what seemed like only a moment of disorientation, Sam found herself in a new location, laying on the floor in a dark room. She felt a little giddy, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the experience. There was a small amount of light coming in from a small vent high in the wall and after a moment, her eyes began to grow accustomed to the gloom. A quick glance showed her the Colonel laying beside her, unconscious. The room was small - barely ten paces from one side to the other and the floor she lay on was hard and cold. There was a slight alcove in the wall adjacent to the door with a hole in the floor in one corner. No furniture that she could make out. The only content of the room, apart from herself and O'Neill, was a small, filthy looking blanket. She looked round her in horror. Was this the hellhole in which he'd spent four miserable months of his life?
A groan from O'Neill indicated that he was coming round, but as Sam moved towards him she heard a noise at the door. Grasping one of the zat guns hidden under her jacket, she flattened herself against the wall in the alcove. The door slid open, a guard dressed in fatigues and carrying a gun peered in, shining a flashlight on the figure on the floor. He spoke sharply in a language Sam didn't understand and prodded O'Neill with the barrel of the gun. Evidently, the prisoner wasn't reviving quickly enough, for the guard barked something to a man behind him and grabbing O'Neill by the ankles, hauled him out of the cell. Sam moved fast. As the door began to shut she threw her weight against it, hearing an exclamation of alarm from the man behind it. She bowled out of the door, shooting both men with the zat before either had time to work out what was happening. There was a flash and the two guards dematerialised. Sam didn't take time to compute this unusual occurrence, falling to her knees beside her CO. "Sir! Colonel, you have to get up. We have to get out of here."
O'Neill groaned, pushing himself to his knees, then seemed to register his surroundings for the first time. His eyes fixed on Sam, then on the corridor, then back on his second in command. "Major Carter, what the hell are you doing here?"
Sam hadn't been looking forward to this moment. "I was .... um, I was .... kind of .... holding on to your .... er, hand .... when the light started. Guess I didn't move away fast enough, and it took me too." She held his gaze defiantly.
His eyes narrowed. "And I suppose you just happened to be sitting at my sick bed with a zat in your hand?"
"Not exactly, sir, no. I had it concealed inside my jacket, sir."
"Help me up, Major." Sam helped him stand, he swayed dangerously and she held on to him until he was steady. When he was able to stand unaided, he turned and faced her, his expression unreadable.
"Major, officially, I'm honour bound to tell you what a stupid, dangerous thing that was to do, not to mention the fact that you disobeyed a direct order."
"Yes, sir." She'd expected this reaction, but she didn't care that she'd disobeyed orders. She knew that she'd make the same choice again in a similar situation.
His voice softened. "Unofficially, I'm damn glad you're here, Sam." He looked around. "What happened to the guards?"
"I hit them with the zat. But I only hit each of them once, and they just - disappeared."
"Okaaay. So - what now, Major?"
"I guess we should look for your host."
"Right. Let's try down here first."
"Hold on sir," Sam said, as he turned to move off. She reached under her jacket and pulled out another zat gun. "I think you might need this."
O'Neill looked at her in grudging admiration. He was angry with her for deliberately putting herself in danger in this way, but he couldn't help the surge of pride at her courage and resourcefulness. But he said nothing, just accepted the gun and somewhat unsteadily led the way down the corridor, stopping in front of a closed door at the end.
"What's in this room, sir?" Sam asked.
"This is the interrogation room," he replied quietly. "It's where they bring - brought - me every time. He's probably expecting the guards to be turning up with me in tow. He probably isn't there yet - he usually turned up after they'd .... prepared .... for the interrogation."
On Jack's count, they burst into the room, zats ready. There were two guards in the room, who barely had time to look around. Again, one shot from the zat and both de-materialised. Sam looked round the room with growing horror. It was larger than the cell, with a stone floor and walls. The ceiling was about 12 feet high. In the middle of the ceiling two thick metal rings were embedded, short, heavy chains ran from the rings, ending in thick metal cuffs. Her eyes flicked to the bandages covering O'Neill's wrists and she closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered the raw and bloody state they had been in. There was a large wooden chair near the middle of the room with restraints on the arms and legs. Finally, to one side, stood a table. Standing on it was what looked like a car battery with wires attached.
Sam glanced at Jack. She could see from the look on his face that he was battling with his emotions, most likely struggling with memories of the things that had been done to him in this place. She said quickly, "Sir, you know you're not back in that prison. Somehow, Sm'tel's replicated the room down to the last detail. But it isn't real."
O'Neill swallowed, and nodded. He knew now that it was all an illusion but, hell, it looked real enough to him. It had felt real enough, too, the last time he'd been here. He shook himself, he needed to keep it together. He had to acknowledge that physically he was already in trouble, his legs were weak and shaky after the short walk down the corridor, and he was hurting and aching all over. Even holding the zat steady was a strain.
Sam took a closer look round the room and spotted a small red light high up in the far corner. Before she could figure out its function, the door began to slide open. Silently, O'Neill signalled his second in command and they melted into the walls on either side of the door.
The door opened and a man walked into the room. He was tall and thin, Arabic. He walked straight into the room and stopped in obvious confusion when he saw it was empty. A familiar voice said, "Behind you!" He whirled round to find not his guards but his prisoner and a woman he recognised standing before him, weapons pointed in his direction.
"Put your hands up where I can see them," Sam ordered. The newcomer complied. "Now, move further into the room where I can see you."
Again, the 'Iraqi' did as he was ordered.
"Who are you?" Sam demanded.
The man laughed. "He knows who I am, don't you, O'Neill, Jonathan, Major, US Air Force?"
Sam looked anxiously at her CO. He had gone white, his body trembling slightly with the strain of keeping on his feet, but his weapon was firmly trained on the Iraqi. "This. Isn't. Real." Sam said deliberately. On a hunch, she turned her zat and fired once at the small red light in the corner. Immediately the prison cell shimmered out of existence and they found themselves in a small room, with metallic walls, floor and ceiling.
"Now, why did you have to go and do that?" The Iraqi chided, as if speaking to a child. You've spoilt it all. The Colonel and I were just beginning to have some real fun together, weren't we Colonel?"
O'Neill stared at his tormentor, for once unable to find a suitable sarcastic response.
Sam pointed her zat at the Iraqi. "If I fire this at you, will you disappear too, like the guards?" she challenged, noting the flicker of fear in his face.
"That won't be necessary." He touched something on his belt; a shimmer surrounded him and then the Iraqi was gone, replaced by a shorter, stocky man with a beard.
"Sm'tel?" O'Neill said uncertainly.
Sm'tel smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, it's me. Surely you recognise me? I certainly hadn't forgotten you. But then, you didn't think you'd see me again, did you?" He held O'Neill's gaze, his eyes full of hatred. "You ruined my life, you know. Word has spread and no-one will allow me to help them anymore. You have to pay for that."
"How did you do this?" O'Neill demanded.
Sm'tel shrugged lazily. "It was easy. Just before I escaped, I shot you with a medi-gun. You wouldn't have felt more than a momentary prick, but that shot put a microchip into your brain. I didn't intend to do anything about it, at first. It was just a whim. But once I realised exactly how much your actions had cost me, the thought of revenge became, shall we say, all consuming."
"The chip - what exactly does it do?" Sam asked.
"It's a very clever piece of technology. You'd be fascinated by it, Major. It acts firstly as a location transmitter, though only at fairly short range. Then, when activated by certain brain patterns, it acts as a locator for a transport device."
"REM sleep." Sam stated.
Sm'tel nodded. "So, you worked that out, did you? I kind of assumed you were beginning to realise what was happening, when the transport failed yesterday. Once I was in orbit around your planet, it was easy. The homing signal told me where he was, and when he was asleep, the transporter link was open." He looked at O'Neill and smiled. "The transporter is an amazing piece of technology. It allows me to take you whenever I want and then return you to your original location within minutes of leaving it. You'd be surprised, Colonel, how many happy hours we've spent together over the past few of your days."
O'Neill desperately tried to push back the memories of the past few days. He had to think clearly. "How did you know - to recreate all this?" he asked.
Sm'tel smiled smugly. "The first time I took you, I hooked you up to a .... 'memory machine' .... would be the term you'd understand. It searched through your mind for the worst experiences of your life. Imagine how delighted I was when I came across this little scenario. It was perfect for my purposes. I'm very proud if it, actually."
Sam felt sick. How could he stand there and talk about his delight at another man's suffering? The man was a monster. She glanced over at the Colonel; he looked like he was about to collapse.
As soon as she looked away, Sm'tel saw his opportunity. His hand went to his belt and the room was plunged into darkness. Before either Sam or Jack had a chance to move, they heard the sound of the door slamming and a lock clicking home.
Sm'tel could have been concerned, but he wasn't. He knew that his 'guests' would have escaped from the simulation by now and he had sent both sets of guards to look for them. Although there were only four guards, they had the advantage of knowing the layout of the ship and with O'Neill injured, they should have no trouble in picking up the two SG-1 members. Sm'tel smiled to himself, maybe this unexpected course of events was going to work to his advantage after all. A shiver of pleasurable anticipation went through him as he thought of the psychological pain that it would cause O'Neill to sit helplessly and watch while the woman was tortured. Of course, when he'd had his fun he'd have to kill her, which would be a shame - she really was a very beautiful and intelligent woman, for a human. As for O'Neill - Sm'tel felt the familiar onset of rage as he thought about the man who had masterminded the rebellion on Ontara and destroyed Sm'tel's comfortable existence. There was no way he was going to kill O'Neill for a very long time. The man had a lot more suffering to do yet, he'd barely begun to pay ....
His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz on his com link. "My lord, we've apprehended the fugitives." The voice of M'kar, one of the guards, sounded over the com.
Sm'tel grinned broadly. "Well done, M'kar. Bring them in," he responded, pressing a button to open the doors to the command centre. M'kar walked in, supporting O'Neill who looked on the verge of collapse. The woman was behind, hands in the air. Before Sm'tel had time to register that there was no guard behind her, a gun had appeared in her hand and was trained on him. At the same time, O'Neill pushed himself away from M'kar, revealing the gun that had been pointed at the guard.
"Thanks, M'kar, you've been really helpful." O'Neill aimed and fired. M'kar collapsed to the ground.
Furious that he'd been fooled so easily, Sm'tel had to think quickly. There were still two guards out there, if he could get a message to them they could storm the control room .... O'Neill turned and fired a shot at the door, effectively fusing the locking mechanism. So much for that idea. Sm'tel realized his only hope now was to talk his way out.
"Okay Sm'tel, get over here where I can see what you're doing. Put your hands on your head and don't move a muscle, " O'Neill ordered. Sm'tel obeyed reluctantly. Much as he thrived on the sense of power and pleasure he obtained from inflicting pain on others, he was in no hurry to experience it himself and the murderous look on O'Neill's face told him that now was not the time to resist. He would have to bide his time until he spotted his opportunity.
"Carter, see if you can find the control to turn off the cloak," Jack ordered.
"I'm on it, sir," Sam replied. A few moments of investigation and the device was switched off.
"What now?" Sm'tel asked.
"Now, we wait." O'Neill replied.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It felt like hours to Jack, who was struggling to stay on his feet, but was in reality only minutes passed before a voice was heard over the communication system. "This is Selmak of the Tok'ra to unknown vessel. Respond."
Sam attempted to activate the com but there was no response. "It must respond only to Sm'tel's voice," she explained to O'Neill, who had looked questioningly in her direction.
"This is Selmak of the Tok'ra to unknown vessel, respond," the voice repeated.
"There's a Tok'ra ship alongside, Sm'tel," Sam said. "Their orders are clear. If they receive no response from you, they will lock onto the homing devices Colonel O'Neill and I are wearing, beam us out of here and then blow your ship to pieces. Alternatively, you can allow me to speak to them and the Tok'ra will take you and your ship into custody. One way you die, the other you live. Your choice."
She waited, heart thumping, praying that Sm'tel would fall for her lie about the homing devices.
Sm'tel narrowed his eyes, looking at her intently. "You're bluffing."
She met his gaze steadily. "Maybe. But are you willing to take the risk?"
Sm'tel considered his options for a moment. It was quite possible that the woman was bluffing, but he had encountered the Tok'ra before and was aware that their technology was advanced enough for them to do as she said. He could call her bluff, do nothing and wait to see what happened, but if she was right, he'd have no time to take evasive action before his ship was destroyed and him along with it.
"Time's running out, Sm'tel," O'Neill said.
"Alright. You win." Sm'tel glowered at Jack, who smiled back. "Computer, allow all voice activation of communication system."
Sam tried again. "This is Major Samantha Carter to the Tok'ra vessel. Good to hear your voice, Selmak. We have control of the command centre. There are two guards at large on the ship."
"Acknowledged, Major. Prepare to be boarded."
Within minutes several Tok'ra soldiers, Jacob Carter amongst them, had boarded the ship, overpowered the two remaining guards and entered the command centre. Jacob looked round the room, relieved to see that his daughter seemed unharmed. Colonel O'Neill, however, wasn't looking so good. He was still on his feet, but his hand clutching the zat gun was shaking slightly and he looked on the verge of collapse. "Jack? Are you okay?"
"Hey, Jacob. Ya think you have everything under control here?" Jacob nodded. "Good," Jack continued, lowering his gun. "Because I think I'm gonna pass ...."
The Carter's, senior and junior, leapt forward, caught him as he fell, and lowered him gently to the floor. Jacob quickly looked him over and smiled reassuringly at his daughter as she hovered anxiously over the unconscious man, seemingly unaware that she was holding his hand and softly running her fingers through his hair. "He'll be fine, Sam. He just hasn't had enough time to rest and recover from his injuries."
Sam looked up at her father, tears sparkling in her eyes, and suddenly realised that her current behaviour might appear less than professional. She deliberately moved slightly away from her commanding officer and ran a hand quickly across her eyes. "Thank you. You saved his life."
"I think we all had a part to play in that. Our theory was correct - they did have to de-cloak when they activated the transporter beam and we managed to get a lock on their position. It was very efficient of you to turn off the cloak again just as we arrived."
Sam grinned. "All part of the service, Dad."
"Now," Jacob said, his voice hardening as he turned his attention to Sm'tel who stood nearby under close guard. "About that implant ...."
Sm'tel saw a glimmer of hope. He knew he was beaten and all he could do was salvage as much as possible from the situation. The microchip was his only bargaining tool.
"What implant?" he asked innocently.
"So that's the way you want to play it?" Jacob asked mildly, but his eyes were like steel as he studied the man who had inflicted such suffering on his friend. "Alright. Let's cut the crap, Sm'tel. This ship is now the property of the Tok'ra. However, I am prepared to offer you a deal. This is my offer. Firstly, you remove the device you placed in Colonel O'Neill's head. Secondly, you explain to us how the technology on this ship works. Then, if we're satisfied you're telling us everything, we'll drop you off on a suitable planet ...."
Sm'tel interrupted. "You call that a deal?" He sneered. "Forget it. These are my terms: you allow me to leave with my ship. In return, I'll agree to remove the device."
Jacob allowed himself a small smile. "You didn't let me finish, Sm'tel," he said. "If you co-operate, we'll drop you off on a suitable planet. If you choose not to co-operate, we'll drop you off on Antark, where I understand there's a very large price on your head, dead or alive."
Sm'tel paled. He had spent several years on Antark, in his usual guise as a god, and lived a life of luxury, until the Antarkans had discovered his secret. He'd managed to escape but he knew that the Antarkans were a vengeful people and that the fate awaiting him if he ever returned was far worse than execution. A look at Jacob's face told him that the Tok'ra wouldn't hesitate to carry out his threat. Sm'tel had been out manoeuvred and he realised there was no way out. The words almost choked him, but he said, "Very well. You have your deal."
"Good," said Jacob. "So, first things first - the implant."
"It can't be removed," Sm'tel replied sullenly.
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
Sm'tel shrugged. "For the same reason you haven't removed it, I'd imagine. It would probably kill him. But I can neutralise it so that it can't be used again. It won't harm him to leave it in there, you have my word on that."
Jacob studied Sm'tel's face closely for a moment, and decided that the man was telling the truth. "Very well. What do you have to do?"
Sm'tel nodded towards O'Neill, who was still out cold. "You'll have to bring him to my medical bay. I can perform the procedure there."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Back at the SGC, Daniel and Teal'c were doing the only thing they could do - wait. Daniel looked at his watch for the tenth time in ten minutes. 0500. Jack and Sam had been gone for almost three hours. He dragged his hands through his hair in frustration and looked over at Teal'c, who was sitting peacefully across the table. "I can't stand this, Teal'c!" Daniel exclaimed, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace the room. "Why have they been gone so long?"
"We have no way of knowing, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c replied. "There is nothing we can do. Would you like to play a game of cards?"
"No!" Daniel exclaimed. "I don't want to play cards! I want to do something to help! I .... how can you sit there so calmly, Teal'c?"
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "I am as concerned as you, Daniel Jackson. But there is nothing to be gained by becoming agitated. We can only wait."
"I know, I know!" Daniel said, flinging himself back down in his seat and looking at his watch again. 0502. He groaned and put his head in his hands.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the medical centre, Sam and Jacob looked on anxiously as Sm'tel made his preparations. The still unconscious O'Neill lay on a bed, his head held still by three metal arms protruding from a device positioned above him. Sm'tel explained that the device was the laser equipment that was required for the procedure. He made a few adjustments to the controls of the laser, then picked up a small device from a counter and pointed it at O'Neill's head. Immediately, a large scale picture of the Colonel's brain materialised before them, apparently out of thin air. A few clicks and the image was enlarged until the implant was in plain view. "I'm going to focus in on the implant. When it's central in the viewer, I press this button," he explained, indicating a small hexagonal button on the side of the device. "This sends a message to the laser which will emit a beam to neturalise the implant."
"How do we know we can trust you?" Sam demanded uneasily.
"You don't," Sm'tel shrugged. "Listen, I've enjoyed myself .... tormenting your Colonel, and I have to admit that I'm going to miss our times together very much," he smirked. "But I know when I'm beaten and I value my life. So let's just get on with this." He looked at Jacob, who nodded after a moment's hesitation.
Sm'tel focussed the device on the image of the implant, depressed the button and a beam of light was emitted. A moment later O'Neill groaned and began to stir.
"That's it?" Sam asked uncertainly, moving quickly to Jack's side.
"That's it. Now, perhaps you could get on with fulfilling your side of the bargain."
"Firstly, I want you to send the Colonel and Major Carter back where they came from." Jacob replied. "And don't send them back in time," he added grimly, glancing at a now conscious but obviously shaky Jack O'Neill. "I think it's time we all got back to reality." He gestured for Sm'tel to precede him out of the room. As he turned to go, Sm'tel caught Jack's eye.
"It's not over, O'Neill. You'll be seeing me in your dreams again."
Sam winced at the venom in his voice, but Jack held his gaze steadily. "I'll be ready for you next time, Sm'tel." Sm'tel smirked, but he was the first to break eye contact as he turned abruptly and left the room.
Sam put a supportive arm around Jack's waist as they followed. He smiled at her gratefully. "Let's go home, Major."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was 0530. Janet Fraiser saved the file she was working on and stretched, massaging her neck with one hand. She really should heed the warnings to not spend too long at the computer, but this long night of waiting had at least given her chance to catch up on her paperwork and take her mind off the situation. Looking at the empty bed in the ward for the hundredth time, she suddenly she felt the hairs on the back of her neck leap to attention. She was barely on her feet when the sensation was followed by the familiar blue shimmer. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter materialised through the blue, Sam supporting O'Neill. They both appeared conscious; though as she hurried over to them O'Neill swayed and Sam hurriedly pushed him down on a nearby bed.
"Sam? Are you okay? What happened?" Janet asked worriedly, scanning both of them for injuries.
Sam tore her eyes away from her commanding officer, who sat on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, eyes on the floor. "We're alright, Janet. It's okay. It's all over." She glanced back at the Colonel, noticing that his hands had begun to shake slightly. She looked back at Janet, "Before you call the General - could you give us a few minutes?"
Janet glanced at O'Neill, who was beginning to shake for real now. He was obviously heading for shock, and she knew she should really intervene here. But her instincts also told her that what he needed now wasn't medical treatment - it was a few moments alone with Sam. She nodded briefly, "If he gets any worse, call me immediately. You have five minutes, then I'm calling the General."
Sam smiled gratefully, then turned her attention to her companion. His hands were pressed together, gripping so tightly that his knuckles were showing white. He needed her, she could tell. She prayed that he'd let her help him, because she knew he shouldn't be going through this alone. Tentatively, she covered his hands with one of hers and put the other arm lightly round his shoulders. "It's okay, sir. It's over." He moved then, arms going round her and pulling her close as he buried his face in her shoulder. He was shaking violently now, breath coming in great shuddering gasps. She held him tightly, one arm stroking his hair, as she murmured repeatedly, "You're alright, Jack, it's over, it's over."
He didn't speak, just held her tightly. They sat like that for a long time, until the shaking began to slow and his breathing returned to normal. She waited until he made a move to pull back, then turned to face him. He looked in her eyes. "You risked your life, Major. It wasn't worth the risk."
Sam didn't try to justify herself; instead she said simply, "You were worth the risk, Sir."
They held each other's eyes for a moment, then he raised his hand and touched her cheek. "Thank you, Sam."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
One month later
Sam was working late in the lab and looked over in surprise when the Colonel appeared at the door. "Sir? I though you'd gone home. It's your first day back ...."
"I'm fine, Carter. I need to get back into things. You know I'm not good at having so much time on my hands."
She nodded. "I understand, sir."
He shuffled uncomfortably for a moment.
"Sir? Is there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Er, yes, yes there is." He took a deep breath, walked across the room to her and handed her a small, spiral bound notebook. "When .... after .... Iraq, I had to see a .... a psychiatrist for a while. I wouldn't talk to him about how I was feeling, so he made me write it all down instead .... said it would help. I .... I thought you deserved to read it."
Sam was shocked. He never spoke about the time he'd spent in the Iraqi prison, and after what he'd told her and what she'd seen for herself on Sm'tel's ship, she understood why. And by the look on his face she knew he'd never shared this diary with anyone before.
"Sir, I .... I don't know what to say. Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked tentatively.
"Yeah, yeah I am. I .... I guess I need to. I've never told anyone what happened in that prison .... except the psychiatrist and my commanding officer. But .... just telling you parts of it .... it helped. And I think, maybe, it'll help me to know that someone else knows the whole story."
She felt her eyes fill with tears. She knew what this must be costing him, and she was incredibly moved to think that he'd chosen her to share this with, that he trusted her that much. She furiously blinked back tears, the last thing she wanted was for him to think she felt sorry for him.
Taking the notebook, she looked him squarely in the eyes, "I know this must be difficult for you, sir. I .... thank you."
They stood for a few minutes, unable to find the words to express what they were feeling, but also both knowing that somehow this was a life changing moment for them. Then Jack cleared his throat and looked away. "Well, then, I guess I'd better be getting home."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't you spend all night here working on whatever you're working on, Carter," he instructed with a small smile.
"No, sir," she returned the smile. "Goodnight, sir."
"Good night, Major."
Sam stood staring at the notebook in her hand for a long time after Jack had left. She knew that the experiences of the past few days had changed her relationship with her commanding officer. She knew too that if she opened the notebook and read his innermost thoughts and feelings that she would be taking a step that was probably unwise for her to take. A step that would surely only end in heartbreak for them both. Yet this book in her hands proved that he trusted her and, perhaps even more importantly, that he needed her. She was left with no decision to make.
She sat down at her desk, opened the notebook and began to read.
The End
Story Notes: E MAIL: rhiannon@ntlworld.com
CATEGORY: Drama, angst, S/J UST
SPOILERS: Into the Fire, A Hundred Days, Divide and Conquer
SEASON: Mid season four
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNINGS: violence, torture (Jack-whumping)
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: SJA yes. Others only with consent of the author
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS: This is my first SG-1 story, so constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated. Heartfelt thanks to Sandy, for taking the time to beta the story despite being in the midst of a computer crisis and to Sue, whose insightful, thorough and generally brilliant comments made this a far better story than it had a right to be.
CATEGORY: Drama, angst, S/J UST
SPOILERS: Into the Fire, A Hundred Days, Divide and Conquer
SEASON: Mid season four
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNINGS: violence, torture (Jack-whumping)
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: SJA yes. Others only with consent of the author
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS: This is my first SG-1 story, so constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated. Heartfelt thanks to Sandy, for taking the time to beta the story despite being in the midst of a computer crisis and to Sue, whose insightful, thorough and generally brilliant comments made this a far better story than it had a right to be.
End Notes: Copyright (c) 2001 Rhiannon
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]