Fine Weather For Shooting - General Jack Year Three - Part One

“This is going to be a fun day – I can just tell.”

Daniel’s enthusiastic tone had me smiling secretly, but as I turned to face him, I schooled my features to appear as impassive as possible. This was the first time my team had watched me shoot in a competition, and I was a little nervous. SG-1 were on downtime after some hazardous missions, not to mention the ‘shackles’ incident, and once they had found out what I was doing there was no stopping them – they had insisted on accompanying me.

After being passed through the checkpoint at the Academy gate, I dropped the others off and continued on to the main administration block, to check in with General Kerrigan before joining the team. Carter, Teal’c and Daniel were planning to hook up with me later for lunch.

I was shown into Kerrigan’s office, where I found him sitting behind his desk, a pile of reports in front of him and a frown on his face. For a second I wondered if I had been transported into my own office at the SGC, the mess looking eerily familiar.

“Morning, Jack.” He began to stand, but then the smile on his face changed to an expression of concern. “What happened to you?”

“Training accident.”

He waved me to a seat. “Jack, I’m sorry, but you have to come up with something a little better than that now you’re the man in charge. Not a lot of generals do training.”

“Would you believe I tripped over a file?”

“No.” He shook his head, smiling. “Want to tell me what really happened?”

I thought for a minute and decided to come clean, after all there were very few people I could talk to outside the SGC, and Brian Kerrigan was one of them.

“It’s a staff weapon burn.”

He grimaced. “Ouch!”

“Yes, not pleasant, especially if I bump it.”

“You can use the arm though?”

“No. Can’t do a thing with it. Damned annoying really. Makes the paperwork twice as hard, and I have to keep asking people to open jars for me. Doesn’t do my image much good at all.”

He had his mouth open like one of those little fish Daniel used to keep. “I thought you were competing.” He pulled a sheet of paper out from the pile and pointed at the list I could see on it. “Your name is here.”

“I am shooting.”

“But you’re right handed!”

Why did people feel compelled to point that out?

**********

“You’re up second, sir.” Morley glanced up from his list, obviously expecting a comment, but I just nodded my agreement. The sergeant was doing the right thing by having me compete earlier than usual. He had scheduled the team’s newest member first, the young airman from NORAD, and the injured member next – me. Lieutenant Hong was in my regular spot as the last to shoot.

With still a half hour before the start of competition, I moved off to the side of the area, searching the crowd for my friends.

That was when I saw him.

Ramsey was standing only about ten feet from me, a young man in cadet uniform beside him. We both spotted each other at the same time. Our gazes met and my pulse raced as I felt the same revulsion I experienced every time I laid eyes on him. The memory of his hands on me, touching – it was still as vivid as it had been all those years ago, and I swallowed, the foul taste of bile burning my throat. He looked away first and I watched him bend his head towards the boy as if to whisper something. He was a good looking kid, just the sort Ramsey liked and my stomach churned slowly as the implications of the scene registered. I took careful note of the cadet's appearance – dark hair showing beneath his cap in the regulation Air Force cut, an average height and slightly stocky build with the muscular look of someone who worked out regularly. I knew I'd recognise him again and would be able to describe him to General Kerrigan as soon as the match was over. No way was I going to leave any kid to Ramsey's less than tender mercies. The boy was looking at me at the same time as I was looking at him, and I wondered just what Ramsey was saying about me. Not the truth, that's for sure. Well, there was nothing I could do right now – time for that later. I didn’t hang around – I turned my back on them and went looking for SG-1.

Outwardly I kept calm, but inwardly I was seething.

“Jack – over here!” A waving arm attracted my attention from amongst a group of assorted Air Force personnel and I walked over.

Daniel, Carter and Teal’c had found a spot from which they could watch the competition in relative comfort, two large leafy trees shading their seats. I wove my way through the crowd to finally reach them. The day was a little chilly despite the sunshine, and Carter had chosen to wear jeans and a warm sweater rather than her less comfortable uniform. Both men were dressed similarly to her, except Teal'c wore a hat that, for once, didn't make him look like a giant, and rather scary, clown. His plain blue ball cap concealed his tattoo and shaded his face from the rather bright light.

"How long before you're up?" Carter asked as I took the vacant seat they had kept for me.

"I'm shooting second, so I haven't got long." I scanned the crowd around us as I spoke, catching a glimpse of . . .

"Second? Don't you normally shoot last?"

I blinked at the question and lost sight of my quarry. Irritated, I turned to look at Daniel, feeling a surge of annoyance. "As you have taken great pains to point out several times, I am not at my best right now." My right arm lifted slightly in the sling as I spoke, an unconscious movement that I couldn't prevent. I winced at the sharp pull of tight skin.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Despite hearing the concern in Carter's voice I still couldn't help snapping back. "I'm fine, Colonel."

She stiffened and nodded, and Teal'c glowered at me. I didn't have time for this crap – I had to get myself into the right frame of mind to shoot, and having my team offer asinine comments was not helping. I stood.

"I'll see you during the lunch break."

I had already turned away when Daniel spoke again. "Is there something wrong, Jack?"

Did he have a death wish or something? I gritted my teeth and spun to face him. "Apart from you stopping me from preparing, no – absolutely nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me. . ." I stalked off, feeling their gaze on my back as I crossed the grounds. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ramsey in a huddle with a group of men, but I resolutely kept my eyes off him, heading for the competitors' area.

Most of our team had assembled by the time I got there and were doing a last minute check of their weapons. I collected my gun case from the storage area and sat quietly, giving them a final going over while half listening to the cheerful conversation around me.

What was he doing here? Was it just a coincidence or had he known I'd be here? Surely not – he wouldn't dare after we spoke in Washington. He. . .

"How's the arm, sir?"

I looked up, startled to find Morley bending over me. I had been so preoccupied that I hadn't even noticed his approach.

I conjured up a reassuring smile. "It's fine thanks, sergeant," I glanced at my watch, seeing I still had fifteen minutes before the competition began.

"That's good, sir," he paused as if uncertain, then continued. "Airman Matthews is a little nervous and I was wondering if you'd mind having a word with him. I would, but I have to check the rest of the team."

Matthews was standing near the door, looking out at the crowd. I nodded to Morley and, after carefully locking my gun case, walked over to him. I stood beside him silently for a few moments, trying to pick out any familiar faces in the crowd.

"How're you doing, kid?" I didn't look at him, still staring at the people milling around on the grass.

"Fine, sir."

I hadn't expected any other answer.

"Nervous?"

I felt him turn towards me, but I kept my eyes on the scene in front of me. I spotted a black parka – was that him?

"A little."

Finally giving my full attention to the young Airman, I took a good look at him. Despite the chill, he was sweating slightly, dark patches showing under his arms.

"I know there's no point in telling you not to be – it's natural. Your nerves are jumping and you feel that every eye is going to be on you." He nodded and I continued. "And you'd be right – they will be. But you have to channel that energy and focus it, use it to help you block out everything except the target." He looked dubious, so I went on. "You were picked for this team because we know you are capable, but Morley also knows you're inexperienced so he's put you up first. And he put me second. Why might that be?" I waited as the kid pondered my question. I knew when he had worked it out by the way his eyes shifted from mine. "Yep – that's right – because I'm shooting with my left hand. Just how well do you think I'm going to do? Let's face it, I'm only here to make up the numbers. If the sergeant had any other choice I wouldn't be here at all. Now, Airman – do you really think people are going to be watching you, or will their attention be focused on the general with his arm in a sling who thinks he can still shoot?"

He didn't know whether to answer me or not, his lips turning up in a tentative half smile. I shook my head. "You know the answer, Matthews. Now go get yourself a drink of water and take a few deep breaths. You'll be fine."

"Thanks, sir." He left to obey my orders, and Morley gave me a quick thumbs up as Matthews walked by him. I nodded back and went outside, moving swiftly around the back of the small hut to get some privacy. I needed to take my own advice and take a few deep breaths.

I had to focus if I wasn't going to let the team down completely.

There was a small group of trees over by a nearby redbrick building, and I headed for them. I still had at least ten minutes before the competition started and a good thirty before I had to be ready, but I wanted to be there to support Matthews. I only passed a few cadets heading for the match, probably been held back for some reason, and reached the trees within a couple of minutes. Once under their shade I rested my back against a large thick trunk, shut my eyes and took a deep breath.

For a second I felt like Lya of the Nox – at one with Nature. Only for a second.

Then a large fist hit me straight in the solar plexus and, as I doubled over, another grabbed me by the injured arm and swung me into the very tree I had felt so friendly towards just a second before.

Hot, very minty breath puffed into my face as a voice whispered into my ear. "General Ramsey says hello."

With that I was left to drop unceremoniously to my knees, gasping as footsteps retreated. By the time I was able to look up all I could see was the silhouette of two men against the patch of sky that showed through the foliage.

I used the same, now much too familiar, tree to lever myself up and ignoring the dull ache in my guts, I shrugged off my jacket, unhooking the sling as I did so.

Spots of bright blood showed through the bandages already.

Crap – Janet was going to be so pissed.

God! I shut my eyes tightly and kept them shut as I rode out the pain. Not Janet. Never again would Janet be upset with me. And all because of that bastard Ramsey and the information he had given the Goa'uld. My head spun and I held onto the tree for dear life, determined to stay on my feet until the dizziness stopped. At last I felt stable enough to stand up straight, my stomach complaining at the move.

I realised time was passing swiftly. There was nothing I could do about Ramsey until after the competition. I tightened the bandages awkwardly with one hand and manoeuvred my arm back into the sling. Every movement set my teeth on edge, but I got it positioned and my jacket back on, not without a few choice curses that would have had a hooker blush.

I left the trees as if nothing had happened. No way was I going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing any weakness. Something must have shown in my face, however, as Morley hurried towards me, giving me a searching look, as soon as I approached the spot where he was standing. The competition had already started, and Matthews was firing off the last few rounds in the slow-fire section, his face a study of concentration.

"General O'Neill, I was getting worried, sir." I knew he was just itching to ask where I had been.

"Sorry Morley, I got held up by an old acquaintance."

"You don't have long, sir." I could see he was getting really concerned as we both watched Matthews step back, having completed his round.

"I'll get my pistol." I turned and quickly jogged to the team hut, almost breaking into a run as I heard my name called, every step jarring my already throbbing wound. I grabbed up the case and put my hand on the door to push it open again knowing I only had a minute at the most to reach the range.

Then I was engulfed in white light and I faded away, leaving only an anguished cry of protest behind.

TBC

A Great Day Was Had By All – General Jack Year Three - Part Two

I materialised on the bridge of Thor's ship, waving my pistol and swearing violently.

Actually – it was more like screaming.

"Put me back, god damn it! NOW! Before I nail your little grey slimy skin to. . ."

It was probably a good thing I didn't get to finish. Asgard/Earth relations would have seriously suffered. The sight of an obviously deranged man with a gun must have been too much for Thor. He blinked once and vanished – or rather I vanished amid the obligatory sparkly white light.

Panting, I looked around, relieved to find the hut was still empty and my amazing vanishing act hadn't sparked mass hysteria. I reached for the door again, pushing it open, my heart rate heading up through the roof and on it's way to climbing out the hole in the ozone layer. I made it to the range with seconds to spare, the officials making obvious movements towards their watches and throwing me irritated looks.

I took my position and prepared to fire.

My first shot pulled to the left and the next two were still off. So much for my advice to Airman Matthews about focusing. I compensated, managing to position the next few well, and allowed myself to relax a little.

I took a second to reposition myself as a slight cross breeze blew across the range.

There he was, a satisfied smirk on his face, clearly thinking his goons were the cause of my discomfort. Ramsey aka Bastard.

My gut rolled again and I felt the urgent need to pee. The next shot went wide, barely hitting the target.

I tried as hard as I could to block out everything but the target, but nothing worked. All my training washed down the drain as the combined effects of my injury, Ramsey's presence, Thor's intervention, and a good old fashioned warning off by way of a few punches, conspired to remind me that I was human after all.

**********

"It's alright, sir. Under the circumstances it was a good result."

Sergeant Morley didn't put his hand on my shoulder, but I could tell that if I'd been anyone other than General O'Neill he would have. I nodded, unable to say what I really felt. I had let the team down. The rest of the members had shot exceptionally well, almost, but not completely, making up for my dismal performance. Now, back in the team's hut, we had held a strategy meeting, with Morley adding up the scores and doing complicated calculations I knew would tell him what I'd already worked out – that we couldn't win this competition. In fact, we'd be lucky to make the next round and Camp Robinson was a fast fading hope.

They were all being very nice about it, but their disappointment was palatable. Under the circumstances it was a good result – said circumstances being a team member who had allowed himself to be distracted to the point of incompetence.

It was a sobering lesson.

"Will you be joining us for lunch, sir?" Lieutenant Hong asked. He had shot a near perfect round. I couldn't have been more proud that it was one of the SGC's own who had saved us from total disaster. I had made sure he knew exactly how pleased I'd been at his performance.

Shaking my head, I answered him. "I have something to do before I eat, Lieutenant, but would you mind finding Colonel Carter and the others and letting them know I'll be meeting them shortly." I described where SG-1 were seated and watched him leave on his errand before forcing myself to stand and going to carry out mine.

**********

The first aide room was fully staffed, with an Academy Hospital doctor and a couple of nurses sitting around a table, sandwiches in hand. They were rather startled by my sudden appearance in their midst, especially given that the shooting of deadly weapons had stopped, without incident, several minutes before.

One of the nurses stood and came to meet me as I entered. "Can I help you, sir?" She was already eyeing the sling, so I gestured to it and asked that it be rebandaged. She led me over to a chair and soon had it unwrapped.

"Doctor."

The doctor had been on his way over, after washing his hands, but he hurried his steps at the nurse's call.

"That's a serious wound, sir. It really needs to be properly treated. Have you bumped it?" He was carefully dabbing it with some sort of liquid as he spoke and despite my best efforts it must have been obvious it hurt, because he turned to pick up a syringe.

I shook my head. "No – no drugs. I'm competing."

His face registered his surprise. "You're left handed?"

I sighed in resignation. "No, right handed." I didn't give him a chance to react, hurrying on. "I'll get it looked after properly after the competition, for the moment I'd just like it dressed and rebandaged."

The doctor reluctantly agreed and I soon walked out of there sporting a new sling and a vastly improved state of mind, courtesy of some serious thinking time while enduring what had ended up being a rather painful experience.

**********

"You ready for lunch, guys? Sorry I kept you waiting."

Carter gave me a bright smile, obviously already forgiving me my previous bad mood. "No problem, sir." She looked quizzically at my arm.

I forestalled her question. "The bandages got a bit loose and I'd bumped it earlier, so I got the doctor to fix it up."

She nodded, still seeming a little worried, but starting to collect her stuff rather than continuing with the topic. Teal'c was already standing, waiting for the others.

"Daniel, you coming with?"

"Uh?" Daniel glanced up, but immediately looked down again to continue reading. "I just want to finish this page. Won't be a moment."

"Perhaps you should meet us in the mess hall, Daniel Jackson?"

"No, T," I quickly jumped in, "If he doesn't come with us now he'll get engrossed in his book and forget to eat. Come on, Daniel." I pulled the book from his hands with a swift tug. "Lunch."

"Jack! Give it back." Daniel made a grab for it, which had the duel function of getting him standing and focusing his attention on me rather than the subject of the rather large volume in my hand. It was easy enough to fend him off, even with one hand, and finally he gave up, laughing. We both smiled as we realised our antics had been the source of several amused stares.

"Are you children quite finished?" For a second I thought my grandmother had decided to haunt me, then reality whacked me on the head as Daniel took advantage of the momentary distraction Carter's words had caused to cuff me lightly across the head with one hand, while grabbing his book with the other.

I put up my hand in surrender. "Okay, I give up. Let's go, I'm getting hungry."

"As am I." Teal'c's words were accompanied by a loud stomach rumble – another side effect of Junior's loss. He looked somewhat taken aback then smiled as we all laughed.

The lawn was still crowded with people, the uniforms of the different military branches mingling with the many bright sweaters and parkas of the civilians. We wove our way between the groups, occasionally stopping to briefly greet an acquaintance, but still making good time towards the large brick building that housed the mess.

"A complete liability."

The words were spoken loudly enough to be heard by both me and anyone else in my vicinity.

"I can only assume he insisted on participating and used his rank to get his way. His performance was laughable."

I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling my team's eyes upon me. Ramsey was standing a few feet to my left, various hangers on around him. The two large men I assume were my friends from the trees were smirking in that irritating fashion people have when they are just waiting for a reaction. The cadet was standing at Ramsey's right hand, and surprisingly enough, was looking embarrassed. He lowered his eyes as my gaze met his.

"Sir." I felt Carter's hand on my arm and heard the warning in her voice.

"It's okay, Colonel, I have nothing to say to Mister Ramsey."

I actually had plenty I wanted to say to him, but looking around I knew I had made the correct decision. Any discussion I had with him could wait until we were in a less public place, without interested spectators.

Carter's hand dropped from me and Daniel gave a tiny 'wuff' of relief as I turned away.

"Would you like me to speak to Mr Ramsey on your behalf, O'Neill?" Teal'c's voice was low but it held a tone of fierce anger. He was slowing his steps as he spoke and his face was even more expressionless that usual.

This time it was my hand that reached out. I squeezed his arm for a second before letting go. "No thanks, buddy, but I'll keep the offer in reserve if you don't mind."

"I do not mind, O'Neill. In fact I would be honoured if you accepted it."

We continued to the mess in silence.

**********

"That was General Ramsey, wasn't it?" Daniel must have decided that a full stomach and two cups of coffee were enough to calm me sufficiently to raise the topic of conversation without me biting his head off.

I nodded, realising that although my friends were aware of Ramsey's complicity in the betrayal of information to the Goa'uld, they weren't privy to the full story. They knew I had served with him, and that he wasn't one of my favourite people, but that was all. They didn't know why and I wanted to keep it that way. My private life was private for some very good reasons.

"He had no right to say those things, sir." Carter reached out for her cup and I saw her hand was shaking slightly. Teal'c wasn't the only one with anger control issues.

"In some respects he was right." I overrode the murmurs of protest and continued. "My performance this morning was pitiful."

"No one can blame you for not shooting as well as you normally do." Daniel protested, "You're injured."

I put my fork down next to the last few mouthfuls of chocolate cake. "I can, Daniel. I blame myself. I let myself get distracted at the worst possible time and let my team down as a consequence. I can't use my arm as an excuse – no one made me compete. It was my choice."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Jack. You have a tendency to take the blame when it isn't right to do so. You can't be responsible for everything."

All three of my friends were nodding and I couldn't help smiling. "It's part of being a general. Truman's saying 'the buck stops here' has taken on rather more significance in my life over the past couple of years."

"I think you were born with the saying tattooed on your ass, Jack. I can't think of a time since I've known you that you didn't feel responsibility for everyone and everything around you. You know, sometimes things just happen – it's not always your fault." Daniel's voice had risen and the people at the tables nearby were beginning to take notice.

I pushed my chair back and stood. "Come on, let's take this outside."

The sun seemed even brighter when we left the building and I pulled my sunglasses out of my top pocket, thankful not just for the protection they gave me from the light, but also for the fact that they hid some of my feelings from view. Of course I knew Daniel was right – not everything was my fault, but I couldn't change the habits of a lifetime in a few minutes.

"Damn!"

The unexpected exclamation from Carter pulled my attention in the direction she was looking, only to find Ramsey and his cohorts coming towards us.

"I hope you've decided to do us all a favour and resign from the match rather than further embarrass the Air Force with your dismal showing."

"In your dreams, Ramsey." I stepped forward, a movement echoed by Teal'c as he stood toe to toe with the two thugs.

"I always knew you were just wind, O'Neill. Full of yourself and nothing else, riding on the coattails of your team mates and getting all the glory." He nudged the young man who had been following him around all day. "Just remember – this is the sort of man you don't want to emulate."

Teal'c snarled – not a sound I was used to hearing from him. Daniel's eyes were narrowed and his hands flexed at his side until they formed into readiness for a karate blow. I didn't even glance at Carter to see her reaction, I just knew I'd have to act fast to prevent a bloodbath.

"I'm sorry, but I can't agree." With a swiftness that surprised me the cadet stepped away from Ramsey, taking up position between us. "General O'Neill is exactly the sort of officer I hope to become. I couldn't do better than study his career and follow his example as best I can."

Ramsey spluttered, his face a picture of confusion and consternation.

"Jack – I've been looking all over for you." Brian Kerrigan came striding across the grass, completely oblivious to the tension in the air around us. "I wanted to introduce you to General Costavich, he's here supporting the Marine teams and I mentioned your name. He said he'd heard a lot about you and wanted to put a face to the name. He's over there." He gestured to the other side of the area, then looked around. "Oh, sorry – was I interrupting something? General, it's good to see you, sir. Cadet Ramsey, I hope you've taken your grandfather on a tour of the facilities. Things have changed a lot since he was here."

Brian finally stopped talking and stood there smiling. The cadet had stiffened when Kerrigan arrived. He nodded respectfully.

"Yes, sir. I was just about to explain to my grandfather that General O'Neill recently spoke to the upperclass men, and how impressed we all were by his words."

Brian positively beamed. "Yes, it certainly was a moving speech." He turned back to the now stony faced Ramsey senior. "I understand Jack served with you, sir. You must have been pleased to have a man of his talents under your command."

"Yes, General Kerrigan, I was." Ramsey's lips were thin and bloodless and his tone was filled with contempt. "I was very happy to have O'Neill under me."

I didn't react.

Brian frowned a little. "Ah . . " he began, clearly at a loss as he began to pick up on the undercurrents behind what appeared to be a friendly little chat.

"Competitors please move to the marshalling area." The announcement cut through the beginning of his sentence and he looked down at his watch.

"Damn, it's later than I thought. I better get back to General Costavich. Perhaps you could join us in my office after the match, Jack?" I nodded and he faced Ramsey once more. "Good to see you again, sir. You should be very proud of your grandson. He's going to make a fine officer." After a few more pleasantries, he left.

"This isn't finished, Ramsey, not by any means." I watched his face pale slightly, taking pleasure in his reaction to my words. "Pleased to meet you, Cadet." I smiled at the young man and turned, heading towards the range, my team trailing along behind me.

They were silent, but I knew there had been a few things said today that would need to be explained. Not something I looked forward to – not at all.

Sergeant Morley was waiting for me so I parted from them quickly.

"I'll meet you in the same spot after the competition – okay?"

"We will be there, O'Neill." Teal'c's tone was remarkably sombre, even for him.

"Good luck, sir." Carter gave me a tentative smile.

I returned it, with interest. "There's no luck involved, Carter, but thanks."

Daniel didn't speak, contenting himself with a nod, then he raised a hand, the fingers crossed.

I walked towards the other members of the team, determined to do my best.

That was all I ever asked of anyone else, and it was about time I did the same with myself.

**********

I finished the rapid-fire section and stepped back, surprised to hear a smattering of applause from the crowd. My score in the timed-fire had been a vast improvement on the morning's effort and I had hopes that my last shoot of the day was equally successful. I felt good about it. Despite everything that had happened I had managed to focus.

Or perhaps it was because of everything that had happened. I knew Ramsey was still watching.

"Well done, sir." Morley did the 'almost pat on the back' thing again with his hand. He looked at the results. "A near perfect score."

Sweet.

I sat and watched the rest of the competition, hoping Daniel didn't have his fingers crossed just for me.

I wasn't disappointed, but it was a close run thing. The Marines from Battalion 3/6 were clearly in first place at the end of the day, but we were on the edge of our seats waiting for second. When the results were announced I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. We beat Fort Wainwright by a few points to uphold the honor of the Air Force, assuring our team a place in the finals. Morley couldn't stop grinning as he stepped up to receive the award for second place.

I left the others to their celebration and went to find my friends. They were all smiles and congratulations, but I could see that none of the day's events had been forgotten.

"General Kerrigan sent a message, sir, to let you know that General Costavich was celebrating with his team. He said he'd contact you tomorrow to arrange a meeting before the general went home."

"Are you returning to the SGC now, O'Neill?"

"No – let's all go out for a meal. There's cause to celebrate." Daniel lowered his voice. "I have to say Jack, I really didn't think you could do it."

"Oh yea of little faith. You should know I can do anything."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, what do you say – a nice juicy thick steak and a few beers?"

I shook my head reluctantly. "Sorry, kids. The team is heading for a bar and a night of wine and debauchery, followed I'm sure by a morning of extreme regret. I really should join them."

Carter smiled again. "That's okay, sir, we understand." She was echoed by an 'indeed' from Teal'c and an 'of course' from Daniel.

I took my keys from my pocket and handed them to Teal'c. "Here you go, T. You're the only one I trust to drive my truck back to the base. I'll get a lift with one of the others or catch a cab, I don't doubt none of us should be driving by the end of the evening."

He nodded seriously. "I am honored by your trust, O'Neill."

My mind did a quick flip, trying to decide if he was joking, then I realized it really didn't matter as long as Carter the speed demon and Daniel the Volvoesque driver didn't get behind the wheel of my baby. I waved them off and turned back to find the others.

"So where are we going, Lieutenant?" I asked Hong, grinning at the way he jumped when I spoke in his ear.

"We haven't decided, sir. The consensus seems to be that it doesn't matter as long as food and lots of alcohol is involved."

"Sounds good to me."

I sat back and let the conversation wash over me. Eventually we all piled into various cars and headed for a small establishment Airman Matthews recommended. It was owned by a cousin's friend or something and served a mixture of Italian and Chinese cuisine – a strange combination that didn't seem so odd after a few beers.

I managed to stay reasonably sober, knowing that my position didn't allow for the same freedom the others had to celebrate to the full, and I left them soon after midnight, still partying on. Morley saw me into a cab with the promise that he would make sure they all got home safely.

In the privacy of my own home I indulged in a few more drinks, switching to whiskey and knowing I had the luxury of the rest of the weekend to relax before going back on duty.

The alcohol dulled the throb from my arm and soon I my eyes were drifting shut. With an effort, I dragged myself off the couch, briefly wondering what Thor had wanted.

My bed was a very welcome sight.

**********

I struggled to open my eyes, do anything, but I couldn't move.

I felt . . .

God – hands. All over me, touching, stroking.

Weight pressing me down, my stomach crushed against hard wood.

And I couldn't do anything.

The feeling of total helplessness was overwhelming.

Movement and pain and I switched off, my eyes still closed.

Long, long moments wishing I was gone. Wishing I had died.

Then coldness as warmth and weight were gone.

And I struggled to move, pushing aside the covers and finding myself in my own bed with only memories of long ago nightmares to haunt me.


TBC

The Obvious Answer – General Jack Year Three - Part Three

"Good morning, sir." Walter greeted me with his usual enthusiasm. I'm afraid I didn't reciprocate.

"What's good about it?"

I'll give him credit – he continued without so much as a blink.

"I'll arrange to move your first three appointments up, General. That will leave the pre-mission briefing with SG-1 for 1000 hrs. Would you like me to get you a coffee now, sir?"

I sat down at my desk, moving slowly in the hope that I wouldn't exacerbate my headache. "Thank you, Walter, that would be excellent." He moved to the door, but halted as I continued. "And I'm sorry. I didn't get much sleep the last couple of days."

He smiled gently, in that knowing way he has. "That's okay, sir. I'll get that coffee now."

I watched his retreating back, thinking how grateful I was for understanding staff.

I had woken on Sunday morning feeling as if I hadn't slept a wink, with vague memories of a restless night and the sense there was something wrong. As the day progressed the uneasiness got worse rather than better and by the time I headed back to bed I was so keyed up that all I managed was a light doze, waking at every dog bark or the sound of traffic going past outside. But I didn't have the sort of job where I could call work and tell them I wasn't coming in – not without a damn good reason – so here I was, sitting behind my desk being totally unproductive.

Picking up the top document on the pile, I got to work.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Good morning, O'Neill."

"Sir."

I eased into my chair at the head of the briefing room table just as Daniel came hurrying into the room, his hands filled with papers. "Oh, hi Jack. Sorry, am I late?" He gave a quick glance at his wristwatch. "Only a minute or so – good."

"Can we get on with this now?" My abrupt words cut across anything else he was about to say, and he subsided, giving me a sideways look as he slid into his seat, placing the papers on the table in front of him.

"Got out the wrong side of the bed?"

Teal'c frowned and opened his mouth, but shut it just as quickly at my irritated glare. I wasn't in the mood for a discussion of semantics.

"PSX-259. Mission objective – determine reason for recent Goa'uld activity on the planet. Personnel – SG-1. Comments anyone?"

"We go, we spy, we come home?"

Ignoring Daniel, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and pulled the pitcher of water towards me. "Any comments worth hearing? Colonel?"

Carter quickly turned her attention to her folder. "The natives reported the presence of a Goa'uld and a small number of Jaffa several miles from the gate. They didn't use the gate, so must have arrived by ship." I restrained my impulse to say 'd'uh' and took a sip of water. "We have been visiting this planet fairly regularly for the last two years and there has been no sign of Goa'uld activity in that time or for at least fifty years prior to our arrival."

"So, any theories as to the reason for the sudden interest?"

"The Goa'uld have made no contact with the locals, O'Neill. Their interest seems to lie in the ruins in the mountains several miles to the west of their village."

"Have we investigated these ruins?"

"Yes." Daniel jumped in quickly, taking over from Teal'c, turning a page and reading from it. "SG-8 did a thorough survey of them. I've looked over their report and can't see anything of significance. They seem to be ruins of an early native village, somewhat similar to remains found on outlying islands off the coast of Scotland."

"And the Goa'uld? Do we know which one it is?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, the …"

"Excuse me, General O'Neill, there's a call coming through for you from the President." Walter was already across the room and opening my office door before he had finished speaking.

"Wait here." They acknowledged my orders with nods. Daniel stood and headed for the coffee pot. I wished I could take the time to grab one as well. Who knew how long the conversation I was about to take might last. At least it wasn't hockey season, so the idle chit chat could be cut to a minimum, I wasn't in the mood for idle chit chat, even from the President.

I picked up the receiver, making myself comfortable behind my desk as I did so. "Good morning, Mr President."

"I'm glad someone thinks so, General O'Neill."

I winced. Oh dear – it seemed I wasn't the only one to get out on the wrong side of the bed this morning. There was an ominous silence on the other end of the line as I desperately searched for some sort of response, before finally hitting on the only possible choice – directness.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"You could say that, General. Perhaps you could explain why I am being used as an intermediary between yourself and the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet?"

"Sir?"

"I asked President Hayes to speak with you on my behalf, O'Neill."

Unless the President had taken up impersonation as a hobby, the conversation had suddenly become three-way.

"Commander Thor seems to think his life is at risk if he approaches you directly, General. Now, would you care to explain to me just what in hell he means?!" President Hayes' voice had risen dramatically as he spoke, ending on a shout. I held the phone away from my ear, my headache spiking into seriously dangerous territory - the run and hide in a small dark place sort of territory.

"I'm not absolutely sure, sir. Commander Thor is an always welcome guest at the SGC." I smiled as sincerely as possible into the phone. "In fact, I look forward to seeing him." Just how true that was, I wasn't going to let the President know. "I can only imagine it's been a misunderstanding."

Boy, was I looking forward to seeing my old buddy Thor.

I rested my forehead on the desk, cradling the receiver under my chin and closed my eyes.

"I am concerned, O'Neill, that you will carry out your threat to nail my…"

I leapt into the conversation with an enthusiasm that I hoped was believable.

"Why don't you beam me straight up, Thor. I'd love to visit with you. It's been too long since we had a proper talk."

"Yes, General O'Neill, why don't you and Commander Thor talk? Then I'd like a complete report, including a full explanation, on my desk within twenty-four hours." There was a pause, before President Hayes spoke again. "Do I make myself clear, General? Or should that be Airman?"

I lifted my forehead and thumped it lightly on the desk. "Yes, sir. I'll have it for you, asap."

"Good." There was an audible click on the line, and without further comment the President of the United States was gone and I was left with my good friend Thor. My knuckles tightened on the handset as I lifted my head slowly.

"Would you prefer it if I came to the SGC, O'Neill? You seem to have a problem with my beaming you up."

Even knowing he couldn't see me, I couldn't help nodding. "I think that would be best."

I had barely finished speaking when a flash lit up the briefing room. I sat, phone still in hand, trying to see through the window.

There was Thor, in an already animated conversation with SG-1.

Oh crap!

I was out of my office in seconds, the dull thud of the receiver being dropped ignored.

"Thor! Buddy!" I opened my arms wide in welcome.

Didn't work. The little grey alien hopped sideways and hid behind Daniel.

"Ah..?" Daniel looked over his shoulder in surprise, moving as he did so. Thor moved with him. All I could see was one large eye peering at me.

"What's going on, Jack?"

"My skin is not slimy, O'Neill."

They both spoke at the same time, but it was Thor's words that seem to register. Teal'c raised a very perplexed eyebrow, giving me a look that demanded answers. Carter moved over to the now seemingly joined at the hip Daniel/Thor combination and dropped down to one knee.

"Is there something wrong? What can we do to help?"

Yeah – that's right – side with the alien.

"I believe O'Neill is upset with me."

"Jack?" One word, but it held a world of accusation. Yes, Daniel was definitely good with languages.

"I'm sure General O'Neill isn't angry with you, Thor."

I smiled slightly. It was nice to see Carter was prepared to give me the benefit of the doubt.

"He tried to shoot me." I swear Thor was playing this for every ounce of sympathy he could get. He sounded like a little kid who's puppy's just been kicked. I could see Carter melt right in front of me, her eyes going wide and a hand reaching out to touch the grey slimeball on the shoulder.

"O'Neill?" This time it was Teal'c. He fixed me with a glare that would disintegrate titanium.

"It's a misunderstanding." I did my best to look benign. "Thor beamed me up just before I was about to compete. I was carrying my pistol and I naturally asked to be sent back as quickly as possible." I bent down, trying to see around Daniel. "Come on, buddy – you know I'd never hurt you."

Thor blinked twice, slowly, and cocked his head to one side, then sidled out from behind Daniel. Carter stood, but didn't step away. Now I had four pairs of accusing eyes all fixed on me.

"What?!!" No one spoke. "Look, I've already got the President on my back. I don't need you three as well." I copied Carter and dropped to one knee, looking the Asgard straight in the eye. "I admit I was very angry when you beamed me up, and I apologise for that, but I've asked you to please be more careful. It could cause all sorts of problems if you transport me out of a public place."

Thor nodded solemnly and took a step towards me. "It is true, you have asked that of me. It is just that I am not used to having to deal with beings who do not know of our existence. I also apologise, O'Neill."

I felt suddenly light, as if a burden had been lifted from me, and couldn't help grinning.

Then I tried to stand up.

My right knee gave out and I was suddenly propelled forward, automatically throwing out my right arm to halt my downward progress. The sling popped open and my arm screamed at me just how damn stupid I was as it gave up trying to hold my weight and collapsed. I ended kissing the briefing room carpet, butt in the air as if I was genuflecting.

Thor's quiet words were just the icing on the cake. "There is no need to bow before me, O'Neill."

I rolled on to my side, clutching my arms and looked up to find general hilarity from my troops, so I just lay there, waiting until I was no longer a laughing stock.

"Allow me to assist you, O'Neill." Teal'c bent and took my good arm, his eyes slightly moist as if he was on the verge of tears. I didn't think they were in sympathy with my pain. Much though I would have loved to ignore his large hand, I was in no position to refuse his help, so I grasped it. Letting Teal'c take most of the weight, I finally reached a vertical position and limped over to the table. Daniel pulled out a chair and I fell into it.

"I'm glad to see my pain brings you so much pleasure."

"Sorry, sir…"

I raised a hand, stopping Carter's attempt at apology in mid flow. "Don't worry, Colonel. I doubt I could have kept a straight face under the same circumstances." The image of General Hammond, ass up on the carpet flashed across my mind and I tried to conceal a snigger.

It was a losing battle. I started to laugh, cradling my arm and flinching with every movement of my body. For some reason that just seemed to make the whole thing all the more amusing and before long Carter and Daniel were laughing along with me.

"It did look funny, Jack," Daniel managed to gasp out, between loud chuckles. "But I think we better get you to the infirmary."

"Indeed. Perhaps we should request a gurney?" Teal'c wasn't laughing outright, but I could see he was a hair's breadth away from doing so.

"No! No gurney. I'm fine."

"Fine if you’re a vacuum cleaner, sir." Carter leaned forward and plucked some carpet fibre from my shirt, then dissolved into another fit of giggles.

"Besides, we don't even know what Thor wants yet," I pointed out. "I'll go get my arm seen to as soon as we've finished here. Promise."

The little Asgard had been standing silently, watching us, and I wondered what he thought of the situation. It probably just confirmed his opinion that we were a very young, if not insane, race.

"Thor?" I invited him to speak as the others took seats around the table.

"It has recently come to our attention that humans have established an outpost in the Pegasus Galaxy."

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. I nodded.

"One of our ships noticed that an Ancient city, previously unknown to us, was being utilised by them. The commander of the ship did not wish to make his presence known until they were identified. Are they known to you?"

I nodded again. "Yes, they're from the SGC. Unfortunately we haven't got regular contact with them. The ZPM's we have are already running out of power so we have to limit their use."

Thor blinked. "ZPM's? I do not know this term."

"ZPM stands for Zero Point Modules." I could tell by her excited smile that Carter was about to launch into an explanation that would make my eyes glaze over, and I barely restrained a groan.

To my profound relief, Thor nodded. "Ah, now I understand. We are unable to utilise the devices you call ZPMs as they are incompatible with our technology. As a gesture of goodwill the Asgard would be happy to take any supplies and personnel you wish to send and deliver them to your outpost and in return we would welcome the opportunity to carry out research in the city."

There was a gasp from Carter's side of the table. I turned to her inquiringly. "Colonel?"

She was looking stunned. "Inter-galactic."

I waited….

"The Asgard ships are inter-galactic, General. Their home world isn't even in our galaxy."

I thumped my hand on the table. "Son of a bitch! You mean to tell me we could have hitched a ride to Atlantis any time? We just had to ask?"

Thor nodded. "Yes, that is correct. Why did you not tell us your people were in the Pegasus Galaxy?"

I shook my head, seeing looks of disbelief around the table that I'm sure mirrored my own. "We didn't think of it."

xoxoxoxoxoxo

I looked at the clock on my office wall and wearily blinked away the fussiness of profound tiredness from my eyes as I began to type again. The report on the screen in front of me was a fine exercise in creative writing and it had taken me several hours to compose, my stock of vague phrases and evasions having been completely used up within the first few paragraphs. I could only hope the revelation that we had only needed to ask the Asgard to help contact Doctor Weir and the rest of the personnel in Atlantis would be enough to push the incident at the Academy to the back of President Hayes' mind.

I saved and sent. It was almost midnight, but I found myself strangely reluctant to head for bed.

I pushed my chair away from the desk and stood, swaying a little. The doctor had told me I needed to rest my knee, but that it should be fine by the morning.

Rest.

Okay then.

I headed for my quarters, shutting my office door behind me.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

TBC

Poker Faces – General Jack Year Three - Part Four


"I see your Hershey Bar and raise you two zplotels."

"No."

"What do you mean, no, O'Neill? A zplotel is worth at least one and a half of your Hershey Bars. What is the problem?"

"The problem is that zplotels leave my mouth tasting like I've just licked the back end of an animal. No way do I want to win one"

"Having never licked the back end of one of your animals, I bow to your obviously much more intimidate knowledge of the subject and withdraw my bet. Would half a tormk be acceptable?"

I nodded, and Supreme Commander Thor reached into the seemingly bottomless magical bag he had placed next to his chair and brought out the object in question – a rectangle of orange that tasted remarkably pleasant – especially compared to a zplotel. I shuddered inwardly, the bitter cloying flavour still lingering in my mouth even after several beers.

Speaking of which . . .

I popped the top off another Guinness and filled the small glass sitting on the coffee table before taking a long drink, shuddering at the taste. Zplotels and beer don't mix but my theory was if I had enough of the latter I'd forget that fact.

Thor wrapped his spidery fingers around his glass, lifted it and took a delicate sip. He nodded his head in appreciation, ignoring my indignant glare. It wasn't fair that he could still enjoy a drink while I suffered.

I looked at my cards again, debating whether or not to raise. Full house, queens high – a good hand, but there was a lot riding on this. The table was loaded with our stakes – chocolate bars mingling with primary colored geometric shapes, an apple pie and several objects I was still bewildered about even after a detailed explanation from the Asgard.

I lifted one – a silver disk – and caught a glimpse of my reflection in its shiny surface. Turning it slightly, I smiled as my face elongated and squished like in one of those funhouse mirrors.

"I have more of those."

I looked up at Thor's words to find him staring at me with his large eyes, his mouth twisted slightly in a tiny smile.

Okay – I'd found the mirrors, where were the beads and blankets? And did I want to resell Manhattan to our alien allies?

I slapped the nice, bright, shiny object back down on the table. "I see your tormk. What have you got?"

Thor carefully placed each card down, starting with a ten of hearts and going right on up to the ace and left me staring at a royal flush.

There was no doubt he had taken my poker lessons to heart. I watched the pie vanishing into the dark interior of the deep black bag and sighed. I had been looking forward to eating that. Mrs O'Reilly down the road made it especially for me. She had called me in as I was jogging past this morning and handed the still warm culinary delight over, with strict instructions to eat it while it was fresh.

I thanked her and headed home, my mouth watering at the delicious aroma wafting up at me.

I had been looking forward to that pie.

Now all I had was the taste of nasty alien goo in my mouth and a stomach that felt like its throat had been cut.

I took another incredulous look at the cards lying face up on the table and threw mine down, straightening them into a neat pile along with the others.

"You hungry?" I didn't wait for his answer, continuing on. "Let's get pizza."

Thor nodded, picking up his beer and taking another tiny mouthful, rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing. "I only ask you refrain from ordering one with jalapeno."

Huh?

I stopped and thought for a moment. Had there been an unfortunate jalapeno incident that threatened Tau'ri/Asgard relations? I came up with nothing, not even recalling jalapenos ever figuring in a conversation.

"Why?"

I've never seen an embarrassed Asgard before. He looked down. Looked up. Took another drink. Looked down again.

"Thor, why can't I have jalapenos on my pizza?"

He finally looked me in the eye. "You spoke of the taste of licking of animals. I am afraid the peppers have a similar effect on your breath, O'Neill."

I couldn't believe it. "Are you telling me I have bad breath?" I tried to surreptitiously puff into my hand, taking a sniff.

Nothing.

He nodded. "I am. The smell lingers in my olfactory organ for several cycles."

"Sort of like zplotels in the mouth, then?" I smiled an evil smile. "And here I am with a particular hankering for jalapenos on my pizza."

Thor blinked.

My smile got more evil.

"Can we come to some arrangement? What will you require to change your mind, O'Neill?"

I made a show of thinking, standing and staring vaguely at the fireplace. "Um," I muttered, as if considering, "I'm not sure. I did have to give back the O'Neill II"

"General Hammond would not be happy to hear you have won another spacecraft."

I spun and gave my good grey buddy an incredulous and hurt look. "You'd tell him?"

"It may slip out when I am in discussions with the general and your President."

Thor had been spending way too much time with me.

I continued to look upset. "I'm hurt that you think so little of me, Commander Thor. I have no intention of asking for my spaceship back." I emphasised the word 'my' and watched him flinch a little.

He stood and came to stand beside me, his cool, bony hand reaching up to touch mine. "I apologise, Jack, it was wrong of me. You can have whatever you want on your pizza."

"Tell you what." I barely managed to stop myself from glancing hungrily towards his bag. "How about you pay for the pizzas? That way you can pick the toppings."

He looked puzzled. "I am agreeable, but how will I pay? I do not have Earth currency."

The bait was taken and I began to reel in the line.

"If you give me one of the items you won in the last game, I'll pay the delivery boy and we'll call it quits."

"Quits?"

"Even."

He nodded in understanding. "Ah, I comprehend." His long limbs snaked over to the bag, his body following. He bent and began to pull a variety of items from its interior. "Perhaps some of the chocolate bars?"

I shook my head, my mouth already watering. "The pie." It came out almost as a gasp and for a second I thought I'd ruined the whole thing when Thor's head came up and he gave me an appraising stare. Then he reached into the bag once again and pulled out the apple pie. It looked none the worse for its imprisonment with the beads, mirrors and blankets we younger races like to admire so much.

I took it from his hands, hurrying it into the kitchen before he could change his mind, allowing myself a broad grin as soon as I was out of his sight.

His voice drifted in from the living room. "I have decided on the type of pizza I wish you to order for us, O'Neill."

I was still smiling as I pulled a beer from the fridge and headed back into the next room. I carefully negotiated the couple of steps down to the living room, making sure not to jar my still slightly tender knee and headed for the phone.

"What will it be, Buddy?"

"A pineapple and anchovy pizza, with an extra topping of tofu."

I swear he was smirking.

I groaned, not quite sure who had won that round.

These poker nights of ours were getting more interesting by the week.


TBC

Groping in the Dark – General Jack Year Three - Part Five

I woke drenched in sweat, for the fourth time in as many days. My hand groped for the light on my alarm clock, finally connecting with the button, the numbers glowing eerily out of the darkness.

0400hr.

My heart was pounding and I felt decidedly shaky. There was no way I was going to relax enough to fall asleep again. For a few minutes I just lay there, a cold clammy feeling crawling over my skin as the moisture on my body cooled. Eventually I untangled myself from the sheets and staggered into the bathroom, stripping off the boxers and t-shirt as I went.

The warm water made some headway towards grounding me in reality and by the time it began to cool I had decided what I had to do.

This couldn't go on.

For weeks now I had been plagued by nightmares that had become increasingly unsettling. Each morning I woke, feeling totally rung out and wanting nothing more than to stay in bed watching television and just vegetating. Instead, I dragged myself into my uniform and out to the waiting car. Once I reached the base I isolated myself in my office, using Walter as a buffer between myself and the rest of the personnel. The day to day decisions were no problem. The SGC ran as efficiently as ever. But I didn't meet Daniel for lunch, didn't drop in to chat to Carter, didn't spar with Teal'c, and I certainly didn't participate in team nights.

Far from it.

What was I meant to do? SG-1 would walk in, DVDs in hand and pizza orders ready, take one look at me and want to know what the problem was. I could see it coming. They wouldn't let up. Collectively they were like a dog with a bone – totally unable to drop it until it was sucked dry. Even Teal'c. He would give me that stare, cock an eyebrow, and ask the questions Carter and Daniel hesitated over. He was the most dangerous of them all.

What could I say? That I was losing it because of recurring nightmares over something that never happened? That I questioned my sanity?

The latest mission had been a godsend. It had been eleven days since I sent them off to investigate possible new technology on an uninhabited world. Colonel Carter reported that the machines in the ruins were totally unlike any she'd seen before. She had even suggested I might come take a look.

I refused and felt the almost physical disappointment emanating down the link. Daniel had wrestled control of the comlink and explained, once again, that there was a possibility the machines would activate if my Ancient gene and I paid a visit. And once again, just as I had when I had briefed them on their mission, I explained that I could not, and I neglected to mention, would not, get permission for an offworld trip.

Over the past few days, several parties of science geeks had trooped off through the Gate, gleams in their eyes, to join my intrepid ex-team.

And I had hidden in my office.

SG-1 were due back this afternoon, and I knew, there was no way in hell I could intimidate them into silence the way I had the rest of my command.

I picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number.

**********

"Let me think about this, Jack." There was a pause and I could almost see the perplexed frown on General Hammond's forehead as he processed the information I'd given him. Then he coughed, a rather uncomfortable sound, and continued. "You know I'll have to tell General Jumper, and he will inform the President."

I sighed. "I understand."

"Very well. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be waiting for your call."

I held the receiver in my hand for a moment, sheer disbelief at what I had just done causing me to freeze in mid motion. Then I gave myself a mental dressing down. What was done, was done. Now I just had to get through the day ahead.

**********

Right on schedule, the klaxons sounded and I made my way to the control room.

"Sg-1's IDC, sir."

I nodded. "Open the iris."

Daniel came through first, followed by Teal'c and Carter. I bent to the microphone. "Hi, kids. Have fun?"

Daniel gave me a quick wave. "When can I go back?"

There were a few chuckles from the personnel around me and I couldn't help smiling. "Debriefing as soon as you finish in the infirmary."

I had already turned to go when Carter snapped out a "Yes, sir."

I could feel their eyes on my back.

**********

"What's going on, Jack?"

I made a show of looking down at the paper in front of me, turning the blank page over and looking at its back. "I don't know, Daniel. I don't have your report yet."

"I believe Daniel Jackson is referring to your state of health, O'Neill. You do not appear well."

I knew this was going to happen. When did my friends get so predictable?

"I'm fine."

"If you don't mind me saying, sir, you don't look fine."

"Just a couple of late nights. It tends to catch up on you at my age." I straightened in my chair and turned to Carter. "Now, Colonel. Your assessment of the site on P8G-173?" I asked the question in a clipped, no nonsense tone.

Carter responded by stiffening and reverting from concerned friend to military mode. "Invaluable, sir. The scientific team predicts it will take several weeks to carry out a full…"

**********

An hour and a half and several cups of coffee later, I had managed to mostly get SG-1 off the topic of my health. Apart from the occasional worried glance the debriefing had remained on topic, but I knew it wouldn't last. As soon as the official business was over, I would be in for some hard questioning.

I gave my watch a quick look before standing. "I'll consider your request to return to the planet, Daniel. Have your estimate of the extra staff needed to complete the investigations within two weeks on my desk as soon as possible." I nodded to them. "Dismissed."

I had almost made it to the door of my office before Daniel's cry of "Jack, we need to talk," followed me.

I stopped, turned a little and gave a shrug. "Sorry – maybe later."

Closing the door, I slid into my chair. Without conscious thought I found myself rubbing my hands over my face. Damn, but I was tired. I pushed the chair back from the desk, sat back, stretched out my legs, and shut my eyes, just resting them for a second.

Moist lips on mine. Hands pushing at me. I struggled to rise, struggled to press against the hands holding me down.

The sound of knocking.

"General O'Neill." I opened my eyes just as Walter's face appeared. "General Hammond on the phone for you, sir."

I nodded my thanks and reached for the receiver.

We exchanged the customary pleasantries then got to the point of the call.

"It's arranged. We agree it's best to deal with this away from the SGC."

"Yes." I nodded into the phone. "I think you know why I couldn't consider McKenzie."

"I do understand, Jack, but it does make it harder to find someone suitable. We've had to come to a compromise. Given the clearance needed, Doctor Kasanji at Peterson is the only choice. You have discretion to divulge as much about the Stargate Program as you feel necessary. The proximity to the Mountain will also make it easier to schedule appointments."

"Appointments?"

"You don't think this can be sorted in one session, son?"

"Well, I…"

Hammond continued as I floundered to a halt, knowing he was right, but not wanting to admit it. "General Jumper and President Hayes agreed to this only on the condition that if Doctor Kasanji feels it is necessary, you step down from command." He didn't let my protests become more than a few short syllables. "I don't for one moment expect it will come to that, but if it does you will take immediate medical leave. Your command will be there when you get back."

The enormity of the events I had set in motion hit me like a Jaffa staff weapon blast. "Sir…George…they're just a few bad dreams."

"You wouldn't have come to me if that was all they are, and you know it, son."

I hated it when he was right.

*********

By late afternoon I was driving, or should I say being driven, through the front gate of Peterson Air Force Base, feeling like I was going to my execution. It seems the good Doctor Kasanji had happily cleared a space in his busy schedule to talk to General O'Neill.

Oh goody!

And to think this had all been my idea.

The base commander, General Luken, was on leave, so I made myself known to his 2IC and continued to the medical facility. The doctor's office wasn't hard to find, his nameplate gleaming on the pale blue door – "Colonel Kasanji – Psychiatrist."

I hesitated for a moment longer, feeling like turning tail and running from something for the first time in ages. Then I collected myself and rapped sharply.

"Come."

I twisted the handle and pushed the door open, to come face to face with a man almost as tall as myself, his hand extended in greeting. He looked to be in his late forties, with a distinctive scar cutting a pale line across the brown skin of his left cheek.

"Please come in, sir. I was just about to ask for coffee to be brought in. Would you like some?"

I found myself seated in a comfortable chair in the corner of the office before I even realized I'd moved. The doctor leaned over the intercom, giving quick orders then strode over to take a similar seat opposite me.

The coffee was brought in by a smiling airman, and there was no way you could convince me Kasanji hadn't cued him to bring it as soon as I arrived. He placed it on the low table between us, clearing the pile of magazines to one side and quietly left the room.

"How do you take it, General?"

"Black." Too many years of having to take what I could get when out in the field had cured me of any need for cream or sugar.

He handed me a cup and sat back, sipping from his own. He didn't allow the silence to stretch for too long however.

"Now, sir, would you tell me the problem that has brought you here?"

I nodded. "I'm having trouble sleeping."

He waited and I stared at him. It took a couple of minutes for him to realise the normal tactic of getting the patient to fill an uncomfortable silence wasn't going to work here. His lips twitched in a small smile as I continued to sip the coffee.

"I assume you've sought the normal medical help for your insomnia – sleeping pills."

"Nope. I don't take sleeping pills."

"May I ask why?"

Too many drugged up days after too many missions gone sour.

"The position I have requires me to be reachable at all times."

He picked up a slim file from the table, opened it and glanced at the top page. He gave me a questioning look over the top of his glasses.

"Deep space radar telemetry requires you to be on-call twenty-four hours a day?"

I drank the last of the coffee and placed the cup on the table. "We do a little more than telemetry, Doctor."

He didn't ask for further details, just nodded. "I see." He gave his own cup a reproachful look and put it next to mine. "How often are you having nightmares?"

I didn't blink. "On and off for several weeks."

He put down the folder and picked up a notepad and pen. He made a notation and looked up again. "An officer in your position is subject to many stresses, especially given the responsibility of command. Might these nightmares be stress related?"

Stress was something I'd lived with for over twenty years. Stress was being expected to save the world one week and balancing the books the next.

"I doubt it. The stress element in my post is minimal."

He wrote something down then seemed to scribble it out. I stretched my legs out and crossed them at the ankles.

"You haven't been at Peterson long, have you, Doctor? Enjoying it?"

He nodded and smiled. "It's a change from my previous posting in Washington. A lot more interesting. It's good to be back working with the ordinary airmen – present company excepted of course. I have to admit to being a little surprised to receive a call from General Jumper himself asking that I see you as soon as possible."

Jumper had called him personally – that was unexpected, and certainly explained the freed up schedule.

I shifted in my chair, uncrossing my legs and sitting up again.

"I suppose you want me to describe these dreams I'm having?"

He nodded. "That was going to be my next question."

"They started with just a vague feeling of being held down." I tried to relax again, but just remembering the feeling of panic was enough to make me pause.

"Take your time."

"They got worse."

"In what way?"

"I could still feel the hands on me after I woke up." I waited for him to say something, but he didn't, just sat, watching me. This time I let the technique work, continuing after only a brief pause. "Then it became not just hands." He wasn't making notes. I had his full attention. "I can't breathe and there's a mouth on mine."

Shit!

I shot up, took a few paces away from the chair and turned my back, trying to conceal the shivers that ran through my body.

It was so cold.

I finally got myself back under control and turned back. I didn't look at Kasanji until I was seated again.

"Sorry about that." I didn't give him more than a chance to nod. "Thing is, Doctor, I have these dreams every night now, and if I do manage to get back to sleep they come back almost as soon as I shut my eyes. I haven't had a decent nights sleep in weeks and I feel like I'm going crazy" I smiled a little. "Not that I'd have very far to go." The brief spark of humor was wiped out by my sheer bone weary tiredness, and I rested my elbows on my knees, running a hand through my hair. "I have to do something about it. It's affecting my judgement."

He nodded. "We need to understand the cause of the dreams. Are you married?"

I was puzzled for a second, answering instinctively. "Divorced."

"Are you currently in a relationship?"

"No, and before you ask, the nightmares aren't memories of being with a woman."

He tapped his pen against his teeth before bringing it back down to the paper. "Why do you say that?"

I shifted uncomfortably, knowing I hadn't been completely honest with him. "It's not a woman's hands holding me down." Despite my best efforts, my pulse was racing again as I remembered the feeling of helplessness and weakness.

A movement caught my attention and I realised the doctor had leaned forward, his dark eyes fixed on mine.

"I am going to ask you a question, sir, and I do remind you that anything you say is completely confidential." He waited for me to nod before continuing. "When you said you weren't in a relationship, did that include same sex?"

There was no point getting upset or annoyed by the question because I could certainly understand where he was coming from. I looked him straight in the eye and shook my head.

"No, Doctor, and never have been."

"Then I have another question, general. Have you ever had sexual relations with another man – unwillingly."

And this was exactly why I wanted to take my problem offbase. The idea I could have this conversation with someone under my command was unthinkable.

"That file you have on me is pretty thin. Doesn't have many details?"

I think he thought I was avoiding answering, but it wasn't the case. He glanced down at the folder. "It is the slimmest personnel file I've ever seen. I'm lucky I even knew your name before you arrived."

When General Hammond told me I had discretion over what to tell the psychiatrist, I hadn't realised it extended quite this far.

There was a water cooler in the corner behind the doctor's desk and I stood and headed for it. My hand shook slightly as I filled the tumbler and took a sip before going back to sit down. The icy liquid went some way to calming my nerves.

SG-1 didn't know what I was about to tell the doctor. Janet and George had been the only members of the SGC to have full access to my medical history.

Even Sara had never known everything.

"I was a POW in Iraq. For four months. Some of the guards were…" I grimaced at the images that flashed behind my eyes. "Inventive in their punishments. And their pleasures."

"I served in the Gulf." His tone was no nonsense, but his expression showed he understood. "I treated several returned POWs." There was silence, broken only by the scratching of pen on paper and I wondered what he was writing.

The general had finally snapped – post-traumatic stress. Medical retirement.

"It isn't the prison guards. It isn't that simple." He looked surprised when I gave him a quick smile. "I wish it were."

"Why do you think it isn't related to your experience in Iraq?"

"The kiss." My fingers twitched against the tumbler and it began to tip. I grabbed at it and the cold water slopped over the edge and hit my hand.

So cold. Icy cold.

Numb.

"In your dream?"

"Yeah. The guards never kissed me."

Did everything else, but never kissed.

I had successfully locked away those days, behind iron bars stronger than the ones that had kept me prisoner. If the nightmares were of Iraq I could deal with them. I had before. No – this was different.

"Has there been other occasions…?"

"No."

"Then I think we must begin with Iraq."

"I've been there, done that." I couldn't help the snap in my voice. There was no need to drag it all up again. "It isn't relevant."

"You can't know that for sure."

"I do. It isn't relevant. The nightmares are unrelated to my experiences as a POW."

"That's what I still have to decide, and I can't do that without all the facts."

"They are not related."

I couldn't talk about what happened. Not again. It was over. Finished.

"What are they related to then?"

My voice rose as the anger I had suppressed boiled forth. "That's why I came here – to find out. Maybe they aren't related to anything. Maybe they're just what they seem – dreams. Maybe I'm finally losing it after all the torture. Maybe I've died one time too many and I've finally snapped. Is that what you are going to tell me, Doctor? That I can't hold it together anymore and it's time to throw in the towel?"

Oh crap.

I stood, panting, staring at him, seeing his thoughts like they were flashing on a neon sign above his head. His diagnosis confirmed. Reserve the padded room.

"Would you like another coffee, sir?"

For a moment I contemplated just turning on my heels and leaving. Going on a fishing trip. Finding a nice lake somewhere with no people for miles. But I didn't. I sat back down, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

"Thank you."

He put the writing pad down, placing the pen precisely across its top edge, and left the room for a moment. My attempt at upside down reading was thwarted by both my inability to focus my blurry vision and his quick return.

"It won't be long." He gestured to a side door. "There's a restroom through there if you'd like to freshen up."

I took the offer gratefully, using the chance to splash some water on my face. The reflection that stared at me from the mirror wasn't me. It was a man, old and weary beyond his years, eyes large in a pale face. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on the glass, feeling the stickiness of sweat still on my skin despite the cursory wash.

Why the hell had I thought this was the right thing to do?

What had possessed me?

I wasn't in any state to be talking to someone outside the program – witness my rather incoherent ranting just now about torture and dying. The damned shrink had barely spoken ten words to me and I was already spilling my guts.

A now all too familiar wave of tiredness washed over me and I staggered, catching myself on the washbasin.

I wasn't going to faint.

I wasn't…

I made it to the door. Kasanji took one look at me and hurried over, taking my arm in a firm grip and helping me sit. He pressed his hand on my back, forcing me to bend.

"Put your head down, sir. I'll get you some water."

He was back in seconds, his fingers light on my wrist as he took my pulse.

"I'm just tired."

"Uh huh." He nodded, but it was obvious he didn't believe me. "We'll finish this session here, sir. I'll clear my morning appointments. Shall we say 0900 hours?"

I couldn't muster the energy to object.

"I want you to take these." He moved to a cabinet against the wall, unlocking it and removing a packet. "I know you don't like the idea of sleeping pills, but under the circumstances you should take a few days leave anyway. Get a good night's sleep and we'll continue our discussion in the morning." He smiled. "Doctor's orders, General."

He was right. I couldn't run a base like this, especially the SGC. I took the packet and put it in my pocket.

"I'd also like the name of your doctor, sir." He took a post-it pad from his desk and started writing.

"He works out of Washington. Commander Coates."

Kasanji's pen stopped dead on the paper. "The President's physician?"

"That's correct." I fished a card from my wallet. "Here's his details."

It didn't take long for my car to arrive and I used the time to contact General Hammond, letting him know I was taking the rest of the week off. I didn't go into details, just that it was doctor's orders, and that Kasanji was contacting Coates. I knew the wheels would be put in motion to make sure the psychiatrist received only the relevant medical records. I suggested I have a chance to explain a few things before the files were delivered.

Wouldn't want the shrink to think I was crazy, now, would I?

**********

It was already dark by the time I reached my house. I went from room to room turning on every light, chasing the shadows away from the corners. Then I had a quick bite to eat, showered and prepared for bed, dutifully taking the pills.

This time it wasn't nightmares that kept me awake.

It was the memories and the fear of what was to come.

Finally I succumbed to a drugged and dreamless sleep.

TBC

General Analysis - General Jack Year Three - Part Six

The knocking was loud and insistent. I continued to rub my wet hair with the towel in one hand while the other hand collected the Glock from under my pillow. I tucked it into the waistband at the back of my jeans.

I opened the door.

"I've been knocking for ages." He had the nerve to sound annoyed.

"I was in the shower." I waved the damp towel in Daniel's face and he reared back, wrinkling his nose.

"Ewww. Don't put that near me."

"Why?" I waved it again, missing his nose by an inch. "It's wet, not dirty. I did just shower, you know."

"Yes, Jack. It's wet and cold—that's the point. It's freezing out here. Let me in."

I stood my ground. "Is it? I hadn't noticed. I enjoy standing at my front door with bare feet and no shirt on."

"Oh, very funny." He pushed past me and headed straight for the kitchen, pulling a mug from the cupboard and looking around. "Where's the coffee?"

"In my stomach." I pulled the Glock from behind me as I spoke. "I've had breakfast and I didn't cater for unexpected guests"

He gave me a serious look. "Okay, two questions. One—who has a shower after they eat breakfast, and two—why did you have a gun stuck in your pants?"

"Answer to question one—I do. Answer to question two—I do. And it isn't a gun, it's a Glock. Now, if you've finished, I have somewhere to be."

"That's why I came. I got to the base this morning and you weren't there." He chased after me as I walked to my bedroom. "Walter said you've taken a few days leave." I tossed the towel over the rail in the bathroom and pulled a shirt from the closet. "A bit sudden, isn't it?"

"Yep." I buttoned the shirt and picked the shoulder holster from the bed, putting it on before tucking the Glock into it.

"I said we needed to talk yesterday, Jack, and nothing's changed. And since when did you carry a weapon when off duty?"

I took a pair of socks from their drawer and sat on the edge of the bed to slip them on. "Since I became the guy in charge of the SGC, Daniel."

"General Hammond didn't carry one."

I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't he? You sure of that?"

He paused, his expression showing he was a little disturbed by my answer. I bent to my left foot, my right one already encased in its sock.

"So, what's going on?" He had obviously gotten over the shock of the idea George might have carried a concealed weapon.

I was so not in the mood for this conversation and I took a perverse pleasure in not making it any easier for him.

"I'm getting dressed."

One shoe down.

"Yes, Jack." Daniel's voice was downright pissed. "Why have you suddenly taken leave?"

I paused in the process of putting on the second shoe, giving him one of my best glares.

He glared back and crossed his arms. He was getting too good at glaring back these days.

"Daniel, I really do have an appointment." I looked at my watch and swore. "Damn—one I'm going to be late for."

"Okay, then let me drive you to wherever you're going and we can talk on the way." He didn't let me protest. "You don't have a car waiting and you know you shouldn't be driving. Your arm is barely healed and you look like hell."

"Gee thanks, I appreciate your candour." I pushed myself off the bed, taking my leather jacket from the back of the chair, thinking about his suggestion as I went over to where I had left my wallet, cell phone, and keys. I slid the wallet and phone into their respective pockets and turned back to him. "Okay. You're right, I shouldn't be driving." I tossed the keys to him. "But we go in my truck."

He instinctively caught the keys, looking startled and stared down at them incredulously. "You hate me driving your truck."

I picked the thick folder up from the bedside table and tucked it under my arm.
"I'm not going to Peterson in your heap. Come on."

I was locking the door before he spoke again.

"If we're going to Peterson why aren't you in uniform?"

"Because I'm on leave."

"Then why are you going to Peterson?"

I hauled myself up and into the passenger seat, feeling decidedly strange to not be driving. Daniel hopped in with an agility that made me envious and started the engine, giving me a sideways glance as he did so.

I didn't answer him and he gave a small shake of his head as he pulled out of the driveway. We had been driving for several minutes before I took my cell phone from my pocket and pressed the appropriate button.

"Walter, its O'Neill. Please inform Colonel Reynolds and Colonel Carter that Doctor Jackson will be assisting me today."

Daniel watched as I replaced phone. He stopped at a set of lights and kept his eyes on the red as he spoke.

"Are you going to tell me now?"

I nodded, knowing I had to, and before we got to the base. "Pull over opposite the park."

"Pull over? I thought you were late?"

I frowned. The man never obeyed an order. "Yes, Daniel, I am. Now pull over."

He pulled into a parking spot and we sat for a minute in silence, as I watched a jogger go by.

This wasn't easy for me. I've never been one to let people into my private life.

"I have an appointment with a psychiatrist." I didn't look at him, my eyes remaining firmly fixed on the far distance, but I felt him turn. "I haven't been sleeping well these past few weeks."

He waited, but I needed help here.

Finally he spoke. "Why a psychiatrist?"

His words broke the impasse I had created for myself.

"I've been having nightmares."

"Okay, Jack. I take it these aren't just run of the mill nightmares or you wouldn't be seeing a psychiatrist."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Can you tell me what they're about?" His voice had lowered to almost a whisper and I couldn't help turning to look at him. I saw exactly what I had been afraid to see. I tried not to react. After all, Daniel is my best friend. Of course he would be worried. He knows my aversion to shrinks.

But it was hard not to close myself off again.

I shook my head. "Not yet."

He didn't argue, just sat there.

"We better get going." I waited until he was back in the traffic before I continued, before I took the next step. "Could you stay and take me home again?"

He moved into the left lane and waited for a gap before taking the turn. "No problem."

It was several minutes before he spoke again. "So, not your normal, everyday, being tortured to death nightmares then?"

"I wish." I even mustered a smile.

We stopped at the base gates and showed our ID, then continued to the parking lot.

"I'll come find you in the Officer's Club when I'm done. Okay?"

He nodded. "I'll be there." I'd already turned away when he called softly, "Jack." I looked back. "Good luck."

I smiled briefly, trying to not show my trepidation. "Yeah, right."

**********

I walked into Doctor Kasanji's office with all the dignity I could muster. "Sorry I'm late." Holding up the folder I'd brought from home, I continued. "You wanted my medical records."

He eyed the thick wad of papers with surprise. "I asked for them to be delivered to me here. I was wondering where they were"

"I had them brought to me instead." And what wonderful morning reading they had made, despite my already knowing what they contained. I had needed a second shower to wash the stench of pain and fear from my skin.

He raised an eyebrow and looked over his glasses in a now familiar pose. "That's unusual to say the least."

"What can I say—I'm an unusual man."

"Indeed." I was unable to conceal my smile at his unconscious Teal'c imitation. "How did you sleep, sir?"

"Fine. And, before you ask, yes I did take the pills, but there is no way I'm going to go down that road."

"You won't need to if we find the cause of your nightmares." He held out a hand. "May I have that, please, General. I'd like to look it over before we start. Commander Coates wasn't exactly forthcoming"

I shook my head and walked to the chair I had used the previous day. I sat, opened the folder in my lap, withdrew a section, and looked back over at him. "Here are the documents relating to my imprisonment in Iraq. Although I don't believe the nightmares are related, I can understand your need to eliminate that possibility. I will give you other records if and when the need arises as we talk."

He didn't speak as he came to join me, taking the opposite seat once again. His face was carefully schooled into a look of unconcern.

As was mine.

He held his hand out and I gave him the papers. He turned to the first page.

Within two minutes he called for coffee. Within five he was throwing me glances and the same looks I always got once someone read the details.

When he finally spoke his voice was remarkably unemotional. "This isn't easy reading. Your treatment at the hands of your captors was particularly brutal. Although I did treat several ex POWs your case is amongst the worst I've seen or heard of. Do you have any explanation as to why you were singled out? I imagine you've asked yourself the same question."

I nodded. "I know exactly why—my lack of cooperation. They didn't like that."

"I think it had more to it than that, sir. I don't believe you were the only prisoner to be uncooperative."

"I attracted the personal attention of the head guard." I leaned across and refilled my cup. "He was annoyed when I didn't react the way he wanted." I took a sip before putting the cup down again. "This has all been gone over ad nauseum. Every time I've been ordered to undertake mandatory psych evaluations after a serious injury or being captured it's brought up again, and frankly Doctor, I wish you would get back to original reason for my visits. The nightmares."

He made a few notes on his pad. "I still contend that the nightmares have a direct relationship to these incidents. You say the head guard took a personal interest in you. I take it you mean in a sexual way? Why do you think that was?"

"Christ! I don't know. He was a sadistic bastard and got off on trying to make me scream. Why me? I don't know. Maybe he'd worn out his welcome with anyone else within a hundred miles. Maybe because I was Special Forces. I don't know."

"Perhaps it was because you were an attractive man?"

"I beg your pardon?" The coldness his words provoked was reflected in the iciness of my voice.

Kasanji held up a photo. It was the standard mug shot taken at regular intervals for the personnel file and must have been a good fifteen or more years old.

"You were young, fit, and extremely good looking."

"Your point?"

"Have you ever wondered if you encouraged this response in the guard?"

My throat closed up and I just sat there, totally stunned. This was new. The idea that I'd somehow encouraged that bastard to do what he did…I fought down the bile that rose and struggled to not show any outward sign of my distress.

"You mean I shouldn't have worn that mini skirt to the dance?"

"Humor is a way of avoiding an issue. However, you are correct to a certain extent. Your case is not unlike that of a woman who has been raped and then told she deserved it because of the way she dressed."

"I was wounded when I was brought in. I was half dead and then tortured to within an inch of my life. I hardly think I was attractive to anyone."

"Perhaps that was part of the attraction—your vulnerability. Combined with your refusal to give in he probably found you an appealing challenge. Your very refusal to give up and your continuing to fight aroused him." He waited, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, but I didn't give him one. After a few moments he continued. "You said there were hands holding you down in the nightmares. You felt helpless? Powerless? Just as you were to stop what happened to you in Iraq."

"No." I made a quick halting gesture with my hand. "That's where you're wrong. I never gave in to him or the others. Yes, I was powerless to stop them, but I never allowed myself to think like that. I fought them every step of the way and when I couldn't physically fight them I divorced myself mentally from what they did to me. I never blamed myself for what happened. I know I never ever gave in. Sure I had nightmares afterwards, who wouldn't? But I got through them. You've read the file. You know that." I stood and walked a few steps away before turning back. "Iraq is a part of my past I've grown to accept. What happened can't be changed. I still have occasion nightmares about it, but they're few and far between and usually after something has triggered them. These aren't the same."

"Please sit down, sir."

With a start, I realised I had turned away again and was almost at the office door. I stopped and stared at its dull wooden surface. Another step, a turn of the handle, and I'd be out of here.

"We'll leave your experience as a POW for the moment. Let's explore some other possible triggers for these nightmares."

"Good."

I sat back down, and watched as he flipped his writing pad over. His pen tapped against his teeth again.

"You said yesterday, 'Maybe I'm finally losing it after all the torture. Maybe I've died one time too many.'." He looked up questioningly. "You weren't talking about Iraq?"

I suppose it was too much to hope that he had forgotten that slip. Again I was thankful for the permission I'd been given to use discretion in what I told the doctor.

"There have been several occasions where I have undergone torture." I leafed through the folder I had placed on the low table between us and pulled another section from its protective sleeve. "This is the medical report relating to one of those instances."

I handed it over. He took it, glancing at his watch at the same time.

"Shall I send for some morning tea, sir?"

I didn't know if I could stomach anything but I nodded my agreement for appearances sake and sat back, trying to relax while he made the request.

"I'll read this now, if you don't mind, sir." He wasn't really asking my permission, so I didn't answer, just stretching out as much as possible and shutting my eyes. Although I had managed to get the first unbroken nights sleep in a long time, I found any sleep helped by chemical means wasn't really refreshing. I ignored the quick knock and sound of footsteps, waiting for several minutes after the morning tea was placed on the table before opening my eyes.

Doctor Kasanji was drinking a glass of juice and watching me.

I sat up and repositioned myself in the chair.

"Something to eat?" He held out a plate of what looked like salad sandwiches. "There are doughnuts if you'd prefer."

"Thank you." I took a sandwich and put it on the plate in front of me.

"I have to admit to being confused, sir. The details in this report are somewhat vague. You were captured by an enemy, held for several days and repeatedly tortured. During that time you were clinically dead at least a dozen times and revived using some device that caused an addiction to an unknown drug?"

"That about sums it up, yes."

My whole experience with Ba'al condensed down into two sentences.

"I would like to know more about this drug and its possible effects on the human mind. According to the report it caused hallucinations and withdrawal symptoms akin to those of cocaine addiction."

"Sorry, it's classified. The only information you will see is what is contained in those documents."

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin. "Surely you can see my dilemma here, General O'Neill. You're a confirmed drug addict, albeit an unwilling one, and yet you continue not only to be an active member of the Air Force, but have risen to a command position since the incident. You were tortured to the brink of death…"

He paused as I flinched and I growled a quick "Go on" at him.

"Tortured to the brink of death over and over and yet you seek psychiatric help over some bad dreams. It's obvious I don't have the full story and it's impossible to treat you without it."

"That…" I waved a hand at the file he held. "Isn't an issue either."

"And why is that, sir?" I detected a note of exasperation in his normally calm voice.

"Because I dealt with it."

"Dealt with it how?"

"I killed the bastard who did that to me."

He didn't blink. "Effective?"

"Yes, very."

"I could see that it would be."

I smiled coldly. "It certainly provided closure."

He took a bite of a sandwich, chewing it slowly. "You're not hungry?"

"No."

He made another note as he took a second bite. "Are you currently on any form of medication?"

"I was on painkillers for a recent injury until last week."

He raised his eyebrow again. "A recent injury? In combat?"

"Yes, I suffered a severe burn to my right arm and shoulder."

He slammed the notepad on the table, putting the pen on top of it, and put his hands on his knees. For the first time his tone displayed obvious frustration.

"General O'Neill, I can't treat you without all the facts. If I ask the right questions you offer some small modicum of information, but only if I ask the right questions. You don't volunteer anything. Unless you are completely honest with me I have no way of knowing what is important and what isn't. It's like going on a mission with only a fraction of the intel needed. You say your job isn't stressful, but you have now told me you have just suffered an injury, and yet you are a non-combatant senior officer—a base commander here on US soil. The small amount of facts I have managed to elicit give more than enough material for a dozen nightmares a night, but you refuse to acknowledge this and expect me to find some other unrelated cause. Frankly, sir, I doubt I can help you."

"So that's it?"

"Unless you allow me to approach this a different way."

"How so?"

"To begin with, you have to give me full access to your medical records."

"That's difficult, Doctor."

"Sir, can I be frank?"

I nodded. "Go on."

"Commander Coates asked that I report the result of our session to him. I can only assume he is acting under the orders of the President. At this point in time I would have no choice but to recommend you take medical leave for an indefinite period."

In that respect he was correct, so I couldn't argue. I stood. "Let me think on this. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." He stood as well and held out the two files I had given him. "General, please consider what I said carefully. These nightmares may just be the harbingers for something much worse, something you will find your previous coping techniques won't work on. You're not eating, not sleeping. You made the first step in seeking professional help. Don't walk away from that help when it is offered."

I looked him in the eye, seeing his genuine concern, and held out my hand. "I'll be in touch." A firm shake and I finally escaped.

Escaped? Was that what I was doing? Making excuses to refuse to face something I couldn't cope with?

***********

I found Daniel ensconced in a quiet corner of the Officer's Club, his head buried in the Colorado Springs Gazette. He lowered it as I stood across from him.

"No blood spilt?" He smiled. "The doctor's I mean."

"Nope, not a drop. You ready?"

He folded the paper. "Yes. You want to go straight home?"

"Definitely."

It wasn't until we were well on our way back to my house that I broke the silence. I had been surprised, but grateful to Daniel for not asking any of the questions that must have been going through his mind the whole time.

"Thanks for doing this, Daniel."

"What?"

"This." I gestured vaguely at the dash. "Driving me. Waiting."

"You're welcome." He paused and gave me a quick glance. "Want to talk about it?"

Did I? I hadn't made up my mind when he spoke again.

"Did it help—seeing the doctor?"

"No, not really. He doesn't know what we do."

"The SGC, you mean?"

"Yeah. I can tell him about the SGC if I think it's necessary, but I don't know if it's the right move."

"Does he need to know?"

"He'll have to. He wants to see my complete medical file."

Daniel pulled the truck around a slow moving car and picked up the pace. "There would be some things in your records that would be hard to explain unless he knew all of the details."

"Exactly. He's seen some of them, and he already thinks I'm a homicidal, homosexual, drug addict."

We had reached a residential area and Daniel slowed once more as we wove our way through the suburban back streets.

"Homicidal I can understand. Drug addict—well, we've both been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. But homosexual?"

His tone was carefully neutral. Too careful.

I don't know what possessed me, but there rose a sudden urge to let some of the secrets loose, here where I was in control of the situation.

"It's the nightmares. They're of a man. Touching me."

"Touching?"

"The doctor thinks they're related to what happened in Iraq."

The truck did a sharp left turn and moved away from the direction of my house. Daniel's hands were clenched tight on the wheel.

"Where are you going?"

"If you want to do this right, I can't drive and talk at the same time."

"You're doing fine."

"No, Jack. You obviously want to talk so the question is: do you want it done right or not?"

I wanted to talk? Since when did Jack O'Neill want to talk?

Since I realised I couldn't do this on my own.

The fact we had stopped registered on me and I looked up, startled to find us back at the park we'd stopped at on the way to Peterson.

"Come on." Daniel didn't give me a chance to argue, opening the door and jumping out. He stood waiting. As soon as I got down and shut the door behind me he started walking, heading for the trees across from the small lake.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private. Where we won't be disturbed."

"And we couldn't have gone home?"

He looked back at me over his shoulder. "There's too many distractions there. Too many memories. We need somewhere neutral."

I gave him a fierce glare, completely wasted on his back. "Since when did you become so insightful in a shrinky fashion?"

"I've had my fair share of experiences with psychiatrists, Jack. Plus it's commonsense."

I shut up, feeling like I was being pulled along by a hurricane, with no escape.

There was that word again—escape. That was my natural reaction to anything vaguely touching on the personal. Run, escape, hide. The complete opposite to the way I lived my life. I was always prepared to meet a physical enemy head on—why not a mental one?

Because I was scared of what would be exposed.

**********

Daniel stopped, his head turning as he scanned the area around us. This far into the trees the grass had been left to grow long and wild where the ground sloped gently away to touch the edge of the lake. Several large rocks lay scattered around and, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he moved to one of them and sat, his back propped against it.

He looked up at me expectantly. "Well?"

I sighed and came over to where he sat, finding my own personal rock next to his. A duck gave an indignant quack and waddled off to the water, dropping into it with a slash and swimming away.

"I better not get duck poop on my jeans." I gave the dirt around me a quick once over.

"Tell me about the dreams." Daniel clearly wasn't going to let me get off topic. He was like a predator that had sensed his prey's vulnerability. I had opened the door a notch and he was determined to get inside.

I gave him a quick run down of the whole nightmare thing, wondering if I should just tape it and play it back to whoever asked. It seemed to have gone from something I was keeping to myself to something everyone knew about in the space of a few days.

He was quiet while I spoke, asking no questions. The whole time he was drawing little lines in the dust with a stick he'd picked up from the ground beside him.

"Sounds like a Fetch."

Well, that certainly wasn't the response I expected.

"Fetch what?"

"It's an Irish folktale, Jack. I would have thought you would be familiar with it."

"I may be called O'Neill, Daniel, but my family's been here for five generations. And this isn't any cutesy fairytale creature."

"I didn't say it was. Actually, not a lot of fairytale creatures are cute. I'll give you an example…"

"Ah!" I raised a hand. "Not interested."

He had the grace to look a little abashed. "Yeah, I'll just say that a Fetch is a ghostly apparition that brings death. Anyone that survives long enough to talk about what they saw say they felt an artic blast or the cold hand of death itself. Some people dream of the Fetch before it actually appears to them. Usually the dreams are of ghostly hands touching them." He poked at the ground with the stick's point. "See—sounds like you're being visited by a Fetch."

"Fascinating though that bit of my lost heritage is, Daniel, this isn't any ghostly apparition. It's all too real."

"How did the doctor interpret these nightmares? You said something about Iraq?"

I grimaced and looked away. "You know this whole little scene would just confirm the doctor's first suspicions about me."

"How do you mean?"

"Two men, hiding away in the corner of a park, alone where no one can see them."

Daniel's voice was more than puzzled, it was confused. "I'm not getting you."

"He asked if I was gay. Well, he didn't actually put it like that. He was more politically correct."

Once again Daniel's reaction surprised me. He burst into a loud laugh. "You, gay! Not likely. Why on Earth would he think that?"

"My description of the nightmares." I paused then continued, "I was raped when I was a POW."

"Oh, god, Jack." I heard him give an audible swallow. "You've never said anything, not mentioned this once."

"What did you want me to do, Daniel? Bare my soul?"

"I could have helped."

My temper flared into life. "Helped? How? It's done. Why did I need to tell anyone? Answer me that. What possible difference would it make except to have people look at me like I had a sign above my head 'Victim. Feel sorry for him'. I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me, Daniel. I don't need for them to look at me any differently. I want them to see Jack O'Neill, not a victim. It was bad enough after Ba'al, but I'll tell you something—what happened in Iraq made me all the stronger and helped me survive what he did to me. So answer me this—what good would it have done if you had known?"

"So, why did you tell me now?"

I heard the rustle of cloth as he shifted nearer to me and the light press of his knee against mine.

Why had I told him?

"Because I can't do it by myself anymore."

**********

"I agree. I don't think it's Iraq that's causing these nightmares."

I was a little taken aback by his ready acceptance of my theory. I had just spent almost an hour telling Daniel everything I could think of, or bear to remember, about my treatment from the guards in the prison and apart from tightness around his eyes and a slight paleness of complexion you'd have thought we'd been discuss the latest football results.

"That's not what Doctor Kasanji thinks."

"He doesn't know you as well as I do. You said it yourself—you never stopped fighting when you were a prisoner. In the dreams you've stopped fighting. You're helpless. So it isn't Iraq."

I couldn't help the edge of sarcasm that crept into my voice. "You make it sound so simple."

"I never said it was simple. I just said we had to look elsewhere for the cause."

The shadows were lengthening and the chill that had been present in the air all day had taken up residence in my arms and legs. Mind you, the cold was the only thing keeping me awake now. I felt totally drained. I opened my mouth to suggest we leave and only managed a wide yawn.

"Damn, I'm sorry."

I looked at Daniel in surprise, wondering what he was apologizing for.

"I should have taken you home ages ago."

"Excuse me? Taken me home? What am I, your date? Do I have a curfew I don't know about?"

He stood, brushing the dirt from his trousers. "Don't be an idiot, Jack. You're still not a hundred percent fit and you haven't been sleeping. We shouldn't have done this outside. You'll probably get a cold."

I scowled up at him. "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm the kid and you're the parent? Grown man here, Daniel. I think I know what I'm doing." I pushed up and felt the numbness of abused muscles.

I sat back down.

Daniel stood staring at me while I suffered, a tiny smile creeping across his lips.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, help me up and stop smirking!"

**********

He was still finding it amusing when we were back in my truck and almost home. I felt like hitting him, but decided to wait until he had stopped driving.

Teal'c and Carter were waiting when we pulled up outside my house. They both left the warmth of Carter's car, Teal'c stretching a little, and joined us as I unlocked the door.

"Hey, guys. Thanks for coming."

"You are welcome, O'Neill."

"No problem, sir. As I told Daniel when he phoned, I wasn't doing anything tonight anyway."

"We have not had a team night for some time, O'Neill. I was pleased to receive Daniel Jackson's call."

I pushed the door open and went in ahead of them, going straight to the fireplace, taking off my jacket as I walked. "Ah, it's not exactly a team night, T." I bent to light the fire as I continued. "Actually, I was hoping you'd give me some help."

"What sort of help, sir?"

I held my hands out to the growing heat, trying to get some life back into them.

They were so cold.

Icy.

I felt a shiver run through me.

"Hey." A firm hand pulled me over to the sofa. "Sam, get Jack something hot to drink. Teal'c, could you find a blanket?"

"I'm fine."

"You're shivering. I knew we shouldn't have stayed out that long."

Crap! This is what happens when I let just a tiny crack appear in my armor. The kid gloves come out and I get treated like I'm some sort of invalid.

Like I'm different. Not who I was.

"Here, sir." I took the mug Carter pushed into my hands.

"Warm milk?"

She gave me a weak smile.

"Here, O'Neill." Teal'c appeared from the hall, holding out a baby blue blanket. He started tucking it around me.

Okay—that was it!

I rose, gathered my dignity around me, discarding the blanket and the milk in the process, and spoke firmly. I was proud that I managed to stay controlled.

"I'm going to go lie down. Make yourselves at home. If I'm not out in an hour, come wake me." I stalked off in the direction of the bedroom, tossing my final comment over my shoulder as if it was a last minute thought. "Daniel—fill them in."

I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached the sanctuary of my room and shut the door, blocking out the murmurs of conversation from the lounge room. I took off my shoes and pulled the covers back, getting into the bed fully clothed. I slowly began to warm up and I found myself drifting off to sleep.

**********

A hand on my thigh. Another stroking slowly across my stomach.

Whispers.

"O'Neill."

I bolted upright, every nerve in my body screaming at me to escape.

"O'Neill." The voice was louder now, it's owner a blurred figure bending over me. I lashed out, only to have my arms grabbed in a tight grasp. A hand on each of my upper arms pulled me back, forcing me to look at what I didn't want to see.

"It is I. You are safe."

"Teal'c?" My heart still beat rapidly in my chest. "What…?"

"Jack, you okay?" I caught a glimpse of Daniel's worried face in the doorway before Teal'c moved, blocking him from my view.

And me from his.

"There is no problem, Daniel Jackson. Please return to the lounge room. The general and I will join you shortly."

"Oh. Okay."

The large hands didn't release their grip until our friend had retreated down the hallway. Then Teal'c moved back, looking me in the eyes.

"You experienced one of the dreams Daniel Jackson described."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

"We will find the cause of these dreams and stop them from happening."

He sounded so certain. So sure. I knew he meant every word.

He'd never failed me.

I gave his arm a quick pat and he nodded. It was easy to communicate with Teal'c without words. We understood each other.

"Give me a few minutes."

He nodded again. I headed for the bathroom as he left the bedroom.

I'd have to get out of the habit of looking at myself in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight at all and did nothing for my ego.

A few splashes of water on my face and a quick brush of my hair and I was ready to face my friends.

They were seated around the fire. Daniel and Carter were drinking red wine and I found myself hoping it wasn't one of the good bottles I had cellared for a few years down the track. Teal'c was munching his way through the hand baked chocolate chip cookies I had bought from the local school bake sale.

Daniel pushed the bottle towards me and I poured myself a glass, knowing it was stupid to be drinking on an empty stomach.

"Sorry, sir."

I didn't ask what Carter was apologizing for. "It's okay, Sam. I understand." And I did. They were worried about me and had wanted to show it.

She visibly relaxed at my use of her first name and continued. "Daniel told us about the nightmares. Something must have set them off, sir. Did something happen? Is there anything you can think of that may have triggered them?"

I gave it careful thought, but shook my head. "I've got nothing."

"We've been discussing them while you rested, and we think we have a plan." I gave Daniel a quick look as he spoke—one he correctly interpreted as he gave a small shake of his head. In the car we had discussed how to approach the issue with Carter and Teal'c and I now knew he had stuck to the original plan of only telling them about the dreams. There was no need to cloud the issue with irrelevant facts.

"A plan?"

Teal'c took up the explanation. "You remember my attempt to teach you how to achieve a state of kelno'reem?"

"Oh, yeah." That whole Ma'chello body swap deal was so not my definition of a good time. My hand snuck up involuntarily to give my hair a quick, reassuring touch.

"My suggestion is that I lead you once more in kelno'reem, allowing you to experience these dreams whilst relaxed. You will then be able to observe the details objectively."

"Hang on—this is beginning to sound awfully like hypnosis."

Teal'c nodded. "Indeed. There are similarities."

"Then, no."

"Why not, Jack?" Daniel had put his glass down and was looking up at me.

Because it meant giving over control and wasn't that what this was all about?

"I doubt it would work, Daniel. I was trained to resist hypnosis when I was in Special Forces."

"Why don't we give it a try?"

I turned to Carter. "Do you think it could work, Colonel?"

"I wouldn't hurt to try, sir, and it could help. What have you got to lose?"

I looked at the three people seated in front of me. I trusted them with my life. Now it was time to put myself in their hands.

"Okay. Let's do it."

**********

"Relax, O'Neill."

"I'm trying." I moved again, attempting to find a comfortable position. "It's hard to relax when your leg is going to sleep."

"Maybe another cushion?" There was a soft thump and I opened my eyes to find a large cushion on the floor by my right leg. I smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Carter."

She smiled back. "Anytime, sir."

I pounded the cushion into a fluffy heap and stuck it at my back. "Does this really have to be done on the floor?"

"It is tradition."

"And who am I to go against tradition."

There was an amused snort from Daniel's direction, silenced by a glare from Teal'c.

"Shall we try again, O'Neill?"

I nodded. "Indeed."

There was another, more feminine snort and another glare.

This time I allowed myself to relax and listen to the calm, low rumble of Teal'c's voice. He was there with me and I was safe.

Time passed slowly. I felt myself falling into a rhythm with the measured ticks of the clock and the calming words.

I drifted between sleeping and waking.

And the hands reached out for me, pushing, pressing, hurting.

I gasped for breath.

"I am here."

The pressure on my chest eased.

"What do you see?"

White. I saw white.

And my breath caught in my throat.

Nothing but white and hands and mouths.

It was so very, very cold.

"O'Neill, what do you see?"

It was too cold to look. My eyes were shut against the darkness within. Helpless to do anything.

Frozen in place.

Locked inside myself.

"You must see. I am here with you. We will look together."

Hands stroking. Lips pressing against mine.

I struggled against them, locked and frozen and helpless.

"Open your eyes, O'Neill. See what you need to."

"No. I can't."

"You can. You must."

Fingers bruising skin.

Ice all around me.

And I opened my eyes to see the face of the Fetch.

Ramsey.

**********

TBC

Nothing More Than Dreams - General Jack Year Three - Part Seven

Memories and reality came crashing together as I struggled to rise, throwing off the hands that held me down. There were voices calling but I couldn't hear the words through the pounding pulse of my heart. I pushed away and shuffled backwards until I felt a wall, solid and reassuring against my back.

"O'Neill." Then, "Jack."

That one voice registered. The voice that had been with me all along.

Oh crap! I came back to reality with a thump.

I stopped moving, but kept my eyes closed.

Not good. No. Not good.

Crap.

I had to say something, so I opened my eyes and looked up.

"Hey, T. Did you just call me Jack? Way to go, big guy." I tried to keep my tone light, but the worry in Teal'c's face proved I hadn't succeeded.

He sat back on his heels and I took the chance to get up off the carpet. My joints protested the sudden movement, and I had to use the arm of a nearby chair to help straighten.

My three friends were all now standing, having beaten me up by several seconds. I was certainly the focus of everyone's attention.

Daniel was the first to break the uneasy silence. "Well, what happened? Did you remember anything?"

Enough. Too much. Not enough. Take your pick.

I gave a quick nod. "Yeah. Look, give me a minute, will you? I need to get a drink." Daniel made as if to hand me my wine glass, but I shook my head and headed for the kitchen, the others following as if they were afraid to let me out of their sight. There was a taste in my mouth that was eluding me, familiar yet not familiar. Whatever it was, it was damned annoying. I filled a glass with water and gulped it down in one long swallow.

The taste was still there, not as strong, but present nonetheless. I refilled the glass and carried it back into the lounge room. It wasn't until I was seated that I spoke.

"I don't know what's going on. I saw something, but whether I remembered it or I imagined it is the real question."

"What did you see, sir?" Carter hesitated, as if unsure. "Can you tell us?"

I stared down into my glass, watching the water ripple slightly. "It was a face."

"Someone you knew?"

"Yes." I nodded at Daniel's question. "But I can't… Something isn't right."

"What do you mean?"

"It's as if I'm remembering, but I can't see how that's possible." I lowered my voice, thinking out loud. "It didn't happen."

"What didn't happen?" Daniel had obviously appointed himself as spokesperson for the group.

"Nothing. Nothing happened."

"But who did you see, Jack? It could mean something."

"No. It doesn't." Daniel reeled back a little as I shouted. "It didn't work, okay." I felt rage burning inside me and barely managed to continue. "Now, I think I'm going to have an early night. Lock up when you leave." Inside I was shaking, still partially locked in nonexistent memories.

I made to get up, but a hand reached out and snared me, pulling at my arm. I caught it and twisted, hearing a crack.

The cry of pain, high pitched and anguished, registered in the maelstrom of emotions tumbling through my brain and I blinked.

Carter was doubled over, clutching at her left wrist.

Oh god!

I lurched up and ran for the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time.

***********

"O'Neill!"

He wouldn't stop thumping on the door. From my position on the floor by the tub I could watch the wood reverberate with every hit.

"O'Neill!"

And he wouldn't stop shouting.

I was cold and numb and all my joints ached.

"O'Neill. I shall wait no longer. If you do not open this door within the next sixty seconds, I shall break it down."

What did it matter? It was just a door. I watched with interest as it bowed inwards, a loud boom resounding through the confines of the room. Another boom and the wood around the handle splintered and fell onto the tiles.

"O'Neill." He was in and over to me, the door hanging from its hinges. "You cannot remain here. Come."

Teal'c was always a man who knew his own mind. When he said something he meant it. I came – half dragged and unprotesting, all the way to my bedroom.

"Undress."

Huh?

"Put on your sleep attire and get into bed."

I obeyed while he watched, his arms crossed over his wide chest. At one point, as I slipped under the covers, he disappeared for a minute, reappearing with water and two tablets I recognised as the sleeping pills Kasanji had prescribed. He held them out wordlessly and I swallowed them down.

***********

Voices murmured from the hallway, quiet but clear enough to hear.

"How was he when he came out of the bathroom?"

Daniel.

"He did not come out. I went in. He did not speak, nor did I attempt to speak to him."

Teal'c.

"You're angry."

Carter.

"I know he was not to blame, but the fact remains that he hurt you."

I rolled over to face the open door and found Carter looking straight at me.

"He's awake."

She entered, the others close behind, and I saw the whiteness of plaster showing below her sleeve. She came to the bed and sat on the edge, next to me, then twisted, reaching down and taking me in her arms.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, holding her gently, mindful of her injury.

"I know. It's okay." She brushed a kiss across my cheek and sat up, but left her hand on my arm.

It wasn't okay. It was far from okay.

"You worried us, Jack." Daniel knelt next to the bed. "Sam refused to go to the hospital until you came out, but you wouldn't answer. I'm sorry we left."

He was sorry they left? I would have thought they couldn't wait to get away.

Especially Carter.

I rolled onto my back and shut my eyes.

"We've been talking…" Daniel paused as if expecting me to comment, but then carried on. "We think it would be best if you saw Doctor Kasanji again. We don't seem to have been much help."

Yeah, plus I wigged out big time. I could see why they didn't want any more to do with me and my problems.

I nodded and turned away to face the wall. After a while I heard them leave.

**********

The smell of burnt toast had my stomach protesting before I was even halfway to the kitchen. I was surprised to find Daniel buttering what looked like the last of a tall pile of sacrificial offerings.

What was he doing here?

"Morning. Want some?"

I shook my head but he pushed a plate with a couple of slices towards me anyway, along with a large mug of coffee.

"Teal'c went for milk for the cereal. The only carton you had in the fridge was one solid mass. Sam's in the shower. We found a plastic bag to put over her wrist." He gestured with the butter knife towards a half open drawer, bags poking out through the gap. "Hope you don't mind." I pulled a chair out and sat, ignoring the toast but sipping the strong, black coffee while he kept talking. "I don't think Teal'c will be much longer if you prefer cereal."

"Oh, hi, sir. I didn't realise you were up. I hope the shower didn't wake you." Carter sat down next to me and I moved my chair a little sideways to make room. She smiled at Daniel. "Teal'c back yet?"

"No, but I've made some toast you can share while you're waiting."

Carter gave the blackened pile a considering stare and her smile widened. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Daniel shrugged. "I like it this way. It has more taste."

They were acting as if nothing had happened, but it had. I could see the cast on Carter's wrist.

They chatted while I drank coffee.

Teal'c's arrival with the milk set off a new flurry of activity, with Carter looking for and finding the cornflakes and Teal'c fixing himself some eggs.

Daniel refilled my coffee.

They wandered in and out, doing who knew what, whispering together. I wondered when they were going to leave me alone.

"Sir." Carter stood in front of me, flanked by Daniel and Teal'c. "I've talked to General Hammond."

I nodded and waited. She was going to press charges. Assault.

It didn't matter anyway.

"He called Doctor Kasanji and ordered a full copy of your medical records be sent to him. You have an appointment to see him tomorrow afternoon."

I drank coffee while Daniel spoke.

"I spoke to Doctor Kasanji, Jack. He just called, but I told him you were asleep. He said General Hammond had authorised him to speak to me and he let me know that he's scheduled you for several tests. Apparently he wants to rule out a physical cause for these symptoms." He paused. I drank from an empty coffee cup. "The first test is at the Academy Hospital in an hour, so we better get going."

I hadn't heard the phone.

I took the mug to the sink and rinsed it then headed for the bedroom with Daniel following, watching my every movement as I put on my shoes and found my jacket and everything else I needed.

The drive to the hospital was done in silence. Teal'c pulled into the parking lot and we headed for the front desk. Carter spoke to the receptionist. I waited.

She nodded to the others and they took up their now customary position on either side of me as she led the way.

************

CT scan, MRI, x-rays, blood tests, urine samples – you name it, they did it.

All day.

And Daniel, Carter, and Teal'c followed me around the whole time as if they were afraid I would escape while they weren't watching.

It was all useless. Totally useless.

Teal'c stood over me that evening, glaring at me until I finished the bowl of soup he put in front of me, then he handed me two more sleeping pills.

************

Daniel woke me soon after eight.

They were all still there. At some stage they must have gone home, because they had different clothes, but I had no idea why they had come back.

Teal'c intimidated me into eating a piece of toast and then I went into the lounge room and watched ESPN. I shook my head at Carter's invitation to have some lunch and studiously ignored Teal'c's dark looks. I assume they found something to eat because they sat in the kitchen, their voices low but constant, until they shepherded me into my truck for the drive to Peterson.

They were still with me when I reached the door to Kasanji's office. Carter knocked and I got shuffled to the front to be the first to enter.

The doctor had already risen and was standing in front of his desk, waiting. I saw a momentary look of surprise cross his face then he stepped forward.

"Colonel Carter, I presume." He put a hand out and shook hers gently, his eyes already fixed on the cast on her left arm. "That looks recent."

She nodded. "Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it." She smiled pleasantly. "It was such a stupid accident I feel embarrassed."

He gave a short laugh of understanding and moved on to Daniel and Teal'c as I stared at Carter in amazement.

Was she covering for me? She met my gaze and inclined her head in quick acknowledgement of my unspoken question.

"Although I am pleased to meet you all, may I ask why you're here?" Kasanji's words brought my attention back to him.

I waited for their answer with as much interest as the doctor.

There was a moment of silence as my three ex-teammates exchanged slightly embarrassed looks then Daniel once again took up his role of communicator.

"We wanted to make sure Jack got here."

"Was there any reason why he wouldn't?"

For once Daniel seemed at a loss for words, but Teal'c stepped into the breach.

"General O'Neill has not been himself these last two days. However, he has remembered more details of the dreams he is experiencing. It is for this reason we felt it would be beneficial for him to speak with you again."

Kasanji turned to me. "And how do you feel about the prospect, sir?"

I shrugged.

He seemed to take that as a positive, as he ushered the others to the door with a few pleasantries.

I wandered over to the water cooler and took a long drink, the same strange taste in my mouth once more.

Snow drifted down and filled my mouth.

"Jack, we'll be waiting."

Voices calling. Jack.

The door shut.

My body shook as it hit something solid.

"Sir, let's take a seat."

I was back in the doctor's office, a cup of water in my hand and ice all around.

Kasanji had my medical file. I'd recognise it anywhere by its sheer bulk. He tapped its cover with his red-and-blue-stripped pen, placing it on the table between us and picking up a much smaller folder instead. He looked down at it, reading as I sat in my now customary chair.

"First let me begin by saying, sir, that if it hadn't been for the unusual circumstance of your first consultation with me I would have ordered these tests before speaking with you. At your age a physical cause for these symptoms is much more likely. However, having said that, I have here the results of all but a few of the tests, and we can rule out many of the more common causes for sleep disruption and nightmares. You'll be pleased to know there are no signs of any infections, brain tumors, brain bleeders, or immune disorders such as Lupus." He pointed to the slim folder and looked at me as if to gauge my understanding of what he had just said.

I grunted a confirmation.

"Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't a physical cause – just one we haven't found yet. Given your extensive history of injuries, it is a distinct possibility." He put down the test results and picked up the other folder, needing both hands to keep it balanced. "I spent yesterday going through this, and I have to say I'm astounded by some of the items. I know I don't have the full story, and probably never will, but it certainly made for interesting reading."

Interesting.

Yes, well… Not quite how I would have phrased it.

I realized the doctor had stopped talking and was watching me. The silence stretched on for a few more minutes.

"I sense a change in attitude, General." He waited, but then continued when I didn't answer. "Perhaps if you begin by telling me what you remembered?"

"It wasn't much."

"Go on."

"A face."

"One you recognized?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He sat back. "Was it someone in a position of authority?"

"Yes."

He nodded to himself as if I had confirmed something. "Have more of the details become clearer?"

"No, not really. And anyway, it isn't real. It's just a dream."

Isn't it?

"Sir, there is nothing in your file to suggest you are likely to suffer hallucinations – either physical or mental. These dreams are more likely to be suppressed memories of something that did in fact happen."

I looked down at my fingers, flexing them.

"What we need to do is understand what triggered them and why you suppressed them in the first place."

"I would have thought that was obvious." I could feel the anger building again, my voice rising. "And they aren't real. They can't be."

"Good."

I looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"That's the first sign of the man I meet three days ago since you walked in here. Then you were in charge, angry but in control. That's changed. Now I see a man confused, depressed, and defeated."

"I'm not defeated. I wouldn't let that bastard defeat me!"

Never.

"Is it the guard?"

"No. I told you before; this has nothing to do with Iraq. This is some sick figment of my imagination I've dredged up from somewhere." My head thumped. "It didn't happen. I wouldn't have let it happen."

"You wouldn't have let it happen?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't let, didn't – whatever." I put my head back and shut my eyes. "Look, can I get an aspirin or something?"

"Have you taken anything today? Any medication?"

"No. Just those damn sleeping pills of yours last night, and before you ask, yes I did sleep, and no, I didn't have any bad dreams."

I just wanted a couple of aspirin, and I didn't need to sit through an interrogation to get them.

Kasanji got up and went over to his desk. I heard him pass my request on and it wasn't more than a minute or two before there was a discrete knock on the door. I didn't look up until he was standing next to me, a glass of water in one hand , the pills in the other. I gulped them down eagerly.

"How bad is it?"

I opened my eyes and gave him an enquiring look.

"The headache." He waved his hand vaguely. "I see from your records that you have a history of headaches."

Yeah. Stepping through the gate had its price.

"I did. Not so much now. I don't travel as much."

"And? You didn't answer my question."

"It's manageable." I sat up. "See. Better already."

He gave a quick smile of disbelief. "I'm sure." His pen tapped on the test results. "You're several pounds below your normal weight. When did you last eat?"

"I had breakfast."

He stood without comment and crossed to his desk again. I heard the word 'sandwiches' and tuned out, shutting my eyes again until his footsteps told me he had returned to his seat.

"I've ordered some food. While we're waiting I'd like to discuss the dreams." He picked up his notepad and turned back a few pages. "Please describe the latest dream in as much detail as you can." He looked at me over the top of his glasses and waited.

I shut my eyes again, putting my head back as I tried to remember as much as possible.

Tried not to remember.

"It wasn't a dream." He didn't speak, so I continued. "I have had some limited experience with a meditation technique and I remembered details while doing it."

"Did you try to remember or was it involuntary?"

"I was trying to remember."

Not remember…not wanting to face…

"Sir. General O'Neill?"

I straightened and gave him an irritated glare. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

"Sorry." He made a note and I wondered what he could possibly have seen worth writing down in that exchange. "We'll start with how you felt – physically I mean. You mentioned cold?"

"Yes." I tried to relax as much as possible. I had to do this. "I'm very cold, frozen. Numb." That was it – numb. I felt numb. "Like I'm not there. At least not completely."

"Is there anything else?"

"Pain." I pressed a hand to my chest. "Here."

"Are you moving?"

"No. I'm being moved."

He made another note, his pen moving quickly.

"Anything…" A knock at the door halted his words and an airman entered carrying a tray of food. Kasanji picked up the files on the coffee table and gestured at the airman to put it down in their place. I stared at the assortment of sandwiches and pastries, my stomach roiling.

He handed me a plate. "I know you don't feel much like eating, but you must."

Rather than argue, I took a plain cheese sandwich and nibbled at it, alternating bites with sips of water. It seemed to take forever to finish. Kasanji pushed the dish towards me again but didn't protest when I shook my head.

"Tell me about the hands. Think about it for a moment – is there more than one person?"

Isn't one enough?

"No." I hesitated, feeling their touch. "Yes. More than one." Stroking. "No… I don't know."

"What do they do?"

"Push. Hurt."

Shit!

The sandwich almost reappeared, but I swallowed and grabbed for the water. "Can we not do this right now?"

Kasanji nodded. "Of course. There's no hurry."

I rubbed my hands across my face, feeling worn and used.

"Now you've described what you feel, I'd like you to tell me what you see."

Him. But not him.

It was all wrong.

"White. I see white. That's all – just white. Everything's blurred, unfocussed."

"That isn't all."

It wasn't a question and I knew what he wanted. "No. The last time I saw a face."

"Blurred?"

I wish it had been.

"No. He's the one thing that's clear."

"And you have no doubt who it is?"

"None." He waited as I struggled to say it. Why was it so difficult? It hadn't happened. "It was my first CO after I graduated."

He turned to my file again, flipping over to the first section. "You were based at Hurlbert Field?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He flipped pages and I could see he was puzzled by something. He frowned and tapped the pen against his teeth again – a habit I was beginning to find annoying.

"Tell me about your CO. Did you have a good relationship?"

What?

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing, sir, but I can see it means something to you."

I controlled my temper, worried at my own inability to keep my normal tight rein on my emotions. "We didn't get along." He didn't speak and I knew he was waiting for me to continue. "He was a bastard. Still is."

"Still is? You've kept in contact?"

"Hell, no! I ran into him a few months ago and again about…."

It all fell into place with a bang that should have been heard out in the corridor.

"General?"

"I saw him. At the Academy. The first nightmare was that night."

It was true. Kasanji had called them repressed memories. I called them denial. I hadn't fought. I'd frozen. They were his hands. His lips. He had been laughing at me – that comment to General Kerrigan. He was happy to have me under him.

I had given in.

"Ramsey. Colonel Ramsey. He made advances to me when I was first assigned to his command. It didn't happen that way at all. I spat in his face." I was trying to convince myself, but I could feel him.

"Did you report it?"

"I didn't think he was worth the hassle." I found out differently, but by then it was too late.

Something didn't add up.

"It's snow."

"What is?"

Snow. Falling.

"It's snow. The cold - there was snow. But that can't be right."

He put a hand out. The movement caught my attention and brought me back. I look at him, seeing his face instead of Ramsey's.

"Wait. Let's take this slowly." He glanced at his notes again and I realized they now covered several pages. "You saw this Ramsey the day before you experienced the first nightmare. Why then? Why after all these years, especially as you say it wasn't the first time you'd seen him recently?"

"He was with a boy. I remember thinking he was probably one of Ramsey's conquests. But he was only a kid – a cadet."

"And that upset you?"

"Of course it did! I wanted…" What had I wanted? To save him? "I wanted to stop him."

"Did you?"

"I didn't have to. The boy was his grandson. But Ramsey and I exchanged words and he …there was something he said…"

"Yes?"

"He made a comment that implied we had had sexual relations. I thought he was just trying to upset me. Put me off. I was competing in a shooting competition. I ignored him."

"Sir, I think we have to explore the possibility that he wasn't lying."

I knew that.

"I made sure I was never alone with him. Plus, there wasn't any snow. It's snow in the dream."

I clung to that. It proved the nightmare was wrong. It wasn't real.

"Your records show you spent some time on a winter training exercise out of Ellsworth. There was an incident." He leaved through the pages. "Let me find it…ah, here it is. You were admitted to the base hospital with a grade three concussion and several cracked ribs."

"Ellsworth?" I shook my head. "That can't be right."

He pushed the file across the table to me. There it was in black and white. I had been in the base hospital for several weeks.

"I don't remember this at all."

"Retrograde amnesia is not uncommon in the case of a severe concussion. The accident could explain the dreams. You said you had pain in your chest – the injury to your ribs."

"So, it was real. Or at least partly. I could have imagined the rest."

Lips on mine. Hands groping.

"Not necessarily."

No.

Standing, I turned my back on him. I had my answer. It was explained.

It was.

It was over. I could sleep.

But I knew I couldn't.

I wanted to kick something. Hard. But instead I turned back and sat down.

"I know. There's more, and I have to find out the truth."

He nodded. "Yes, you do. But we have a place to start." He gave his watch a quick glance. "We'll end this here, sir. I'd like you to see me again tomorrow at the same time. Please make sure you have a proper meal tonight and I want you to take the sleeping pills." He held up his hand as I made to protest. "I know you don't want to, but you need to get some proper rest."

I agreed reluctantly.

*********

They were waiting, standing near the stairs, and I wondered if they had been there the whole time.

It was in the car on the way home that I finally realized. The taste, the one that had been in my mouth for days. It was the taste of anesthetic. I had been frozen.

Maybe it was just what it seemed at first – a dream. Just a dream brought on by a concussion.

Nothing more.

TBC

Discordant Humming – General Jack Year Three - Part Eight


We were several miles from Peterson when I broke the somewhat oppressive silence. "I'm hungry."

"How about we stop at the store and get some groceries on the way home. I'm happy to cook if I have some help."

"Thanks for the offer, Daniel, but I feel like getting out." I looked at my watch, surprised at how late it was. "Drop me off, then head home and change. Meet back at my place in two hours, okay?"

Teal'c turned and stared over his shoulder at me from his position in the front passenger seat. "Do you think this is a wise plan, O'Neill?"

"I don't really feel like a night out, sir." Carter said, shifting uncomfortably and cradling her broken wrist with her other hand.

"Aw, come on, Carter. A good meal you don't need to cook yourself. It'll make you feel better. I'm starving."

There was another long silence. I stared out the window at the scenery, tapping my fingers on my thigh, humming the damn tune I couldn't get out of my head – some asinine 70s pop song I could only remember a couple of lines of. "Woke up this morning and my mama was gone, Ooh-We, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirp"

"Jack."

"Um?"

"You're singing. At least I think that's what you're doing."

"Yes – your point?" I grinned and hummed another couple of bars, before turning back and giving my companions a pointed look. "Well? Come on, guys! Do I have to go alone?"

Daniel turned the truck into my street, bumping the corner of the curb slightly as he maneuvered up my drive. I winced but didn't complain. He came to a stop, switched off the engine, and twisted around, handing me the keys. "Teal'c's right, Jack. I don't think it's a good idea to go out. How about we order takeout?"

I shook my head, pulling the door handle up and jumping down as I spoke. "Nah – you can stay in if you want. I'm in the mood for a decent dinner and some scenery other than my four walls. You're welcome to come with, but I'll understand if you don't feel up to it." My gaze shifted to Carter and I smiled. "Really, I understand. How about anyone who wants to join me meets back here in a couple of hours? Okay?"

They all looked rather confused and uncomfortable for some reason, so I gave them a cheery wave and left them standing on my drive. I went inside, shutting the front door. "Ooh-We, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirp" Stupid song! I started shedding clothes before I even reached my bathroom, dropping them as I walked.

Showered, dried, and changed into fresh slacks and shirt I stared in the mirror as I combed my hair.

Not too bad. A bit tired looking around the eyes, but otherwise presentable.

Still over an hour to go before it was time to leave. What to do? I wasn't in the mood for TV so I rifled through my CDs until I found an old Beatles collection and happily and loudly sang my way through the playlist, sipping on a beer to ease my dry throat.

It was ten minutes before the agreed time when the doorbell rang. Sweet – I wouldn't be going out alone after all. Who was it? Who? I flung the door wide and was somewhat surprised to find both Carter and Teal'c on the doorstep. I beamed in welcome. I hadn't expected Carter, not with her bum arm.

"Hey, kids, come in. We'll give Daniel five then I'll call for a cab – save us worrying about driving home."

The colonel shook her head. "Don't bother about a cab, sir. I won't be drinking."

Oh, yeah – she was probably taking pain killers or something. That was great – a designated driver without even a discussion. "Thanks - okay, Daniel gets five minutes then we head out." I waved them inside and finished up my beer in three large mouthfuls.

"Should you be drinking, O'Neill? Are you not also on medication?"

"Just sleeping tablets, T, and I haven't had one since last night."

"You haven't had much of anything to eat for a few days, sir. Perhaps it would be better if you didn't drink on an empty stomach?"

I clapped my hands and spun on my heels, grabbing my leather jacket from the armchair. "Exactly. Empty stomach. Need food. Let's go."

I didn't wait, even though the five minutes wasn't up. I pulled my house keys from my jacket pocket and waited for them to exit before shutting and locking the door.

Carter's sports car was a tight squeeze but I didn't care, commandeering the front passenger seat with a happy disregard for Teal'c's glare of displeasure. Rank did have some privileges.

"Where to, sir? O'Malley's?"

"Nah, somewhere different for a change. There's a steak place a few blocks down from O'Malley's I heard is good. Let's try there, and if we don't like it we can move on."

Carter nodded in agreement and reached for the key in the ignition, stopping as the distinctive rattle of Daniel's engine sounded loud in the otherwise quiet street. He pulled up and jumped out, looking flustered.

"Sorry. I lost track of time."

I got out and let him slide into the back next to Teal'c. "No problem. We were just leaving." I hopped back in, anxious to get going. "The gangs all here, Carter, so what are we waiting for?"

She gave a slight smile, the first since she had arrived at my house. "Nothing, General."

The engine purred and I started singing again. "Ooh-We, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirp."

Sometimes life just feels good.

**********

The steak house was crowded and noisy, the food plentiful and good, and the music loud. I loved every minute of it, but trying to have a conversation with my friends was like getting blood out of a stone. They gave monosyllabic answers to all my comments and picked at their food. Daniel had a wild look in his eyes every time he glanced at me, and had twice almost knocked his glass over when I reached across the table for the salt. I didn't know what his problem was and wasn't going to spoil my good mood by asking.

I raised my hand to the waitress, watching appreciatively as she sashayed across to us, giving me an inviting smile, which I returned. At least someone was being kind to me.

"What can I do for you, sugar?"

"Three more beers and a lemonade will do for now." My hand landed on her tight little butt and I lowered my voice. "We'll talk about what else you can do for me later."

She bent down, giving me an eyeful of her generous cleavage and whispered into my ear. "I get off at one." Her tongue flicked out, licking swiftly around the inside of my ear then she straightened. "I'll get those drinks for you, sir."

Nice.

"Um, Jack, what's going on?"

My attention swung back to my companions. "I'm having a good time, is all. Something you three should learn to do."

Teal'c looked even more depressing than usual as he leaned forward and spoke as if his words were was the most important he'd ever had to impart. "We are concerned by your behavior, O'Neill. Perhaps it would be best if we returned to your home."

I couldn't help laughing at the suggestion. "As if! I'll go home when I'm good and ready and it sure won't be with you lot. Bunch of wet blankets." I looked over at the pretty young waitress and gave her a quick smile.

"Sir, we don't understand why you're acting like this."

"Did something happen when you talked to Doctor Kasanji?"

Ah – now they wanted to talk. I downed the fourth beer of the evening in one long gulp and waved the empty at another waitress who was just as attractive as the first. I wondered what time she got off work

"Haven't you had enough?"

I didn't even bother dignifying Daniel's comment with an answer. I gave the girl a smile filled with invitation as she placed the bottle on the table and then sat back in my chair, surveying the room. The crowd was growing and there were several groups standing, waiting for tables. A few couples were on the small dance floor, with more joining them as a slow love song wafted from the jukebox. I gave Carter a speculative look but decided not to ask her for a dance when I saw her sour expression. There was a group of women who had been drinking together several tables over for as long as we had been in the joint. Maybe one of them...I began to stand.

A hand landed hard on my arm, gripping it with some force. "O'Neill, you are not yourself."

I had no choice but to sit back down. "Of course I am, T. Never better. Happy as a pig in mud."

"What transpired during your visit with Doctor Kasjani?"

Why not tell them? It was good news – wasn't it?

"Nothing much. I figured out it was all my imagination playing tricks." My smile was wide and I looked each of them in the eye. "Thanks for your help, guys, but it's over. Everything is back to normal. Fries are all back in the Happy Meal. You don't need to worry about me – I'll be back to work tomorrow. In fact…" I looked at my watch. "I'll give Hammond a call now. Let him know."

I started to rise again. This time it was Daniel that stopped me.

"Jack – wait. What do you mean? What happened?"

"That's just it. Nothing. I had an accident years ago, ended up with a concussion, and didn't remember a thing about it. The memories came back all jumbled and I blew it up out of proportion – seeing things that weren't there. Now I've got it all straight in my head again and no more problem."

Their faces showed mixed reactions, but not the pleasure I was expecting. For some reason they didn't share my delight at the solution being found.

Damn it! It was as if they didn't want me to get better, get back to work. Did they want to keep me from the SGC for some reason? Maybe having me depend on them these last few days had been a power trip for them? Carter was giving me that same look she gave one of her experiments – as if I was something to be pulled apart and analyzed. Well, I had had quite enough of being analyzed, thank you very much. And Teal'c – bet he got off on pushing me around like I was some sort of trainee Jaffa. Making me eat, ordering me to bed. And then there was Daniel. Huh! Some friend he turned out to be. I told him stuff in confidence, bared my soul to him, and he couldn't wait to go running to the others. Bet he'd laughed when he gave them all the gory details.

They were all laughing at me. No matter how hard they tried to hide it, I could tell.

I pushed my chair back and stood. This time they weren't going to stop me. I could get a cab and be back at the SGC in half an hour. They wouldn't be able to get to me there.

No one could.

I turned – straight into the chest of a man walking by the table. Beer went everywhere.

"Hey, look out!" Hands pushed me away and I just managed to stop myself from falling as I bumped backwards into my abandoned chair. He gave me another shove. His face was red with anger and liquor.

Bastard – didn't even give me time to apologize.

I squared up to him. He may be younger than me and built like a quarterback, but I was damned if I was going to be pushed around by anyone. I could take him – no problem. No one was going to get the better of Jack O'Neill again. I wasn't going to just take it. Not this time.

This time I was fighting back.

"Hey, I don't want any trouble." He put his hands up, palms out. "Just buy another beer for me and my buddies and we'll call it even, okay?"

It wasn't okay. He had pushed me. The anger built in me.

I took a step forward, and he took one back, his eyes shifting as if looking for support. I took in the two men standing behind him, watching, and sized them up in one quick glance. They were ready to come to their friend's defense.

It wouldn't make any difference if they did.

I stepped forward again, anticipation building.

My opponent stepped back again, almost into his friends.

"O'Neill – enough! It is finished." I stopped, Teal'c's hand wrapped around my arm. "We are leaving."

"Sorry about that. Let us get you some more drinks." Daniel gave the man one of his most friendly smiles and moved away, heading for the bar.

Tension kept me rooted to the spot. I kept my stare fixed on the man in front of me. Teal'c's grip got tighter.

"Can we go now, sir? My wrist is starting to ache."

She could go. I wouldn't stop her going. But I had unfinished business.

Unexpectedly, my enemy smiled at her words. "Sir? You military? We're navy. My buddy there…" He gestured to the shorter, dark haired man behind him. "His family lives here in the Springs. We had two weeks leave and decided to visit his new nephew."

Carter smiled back. "Air Force. Colonel Samantha Carter." For some reason she seemed to now think these men were her best friends. I shifted, flexing my hands, looking for my chance. Carter was still talking, but I didn't let her distract me.

"Colonel? And you called him 'sir'?" Three pairs of anxious eyes fixed on me and skittered hurriedly away.

"This is Major General O'Neill," Teal'c intoned. "I offer apologies on his behalf for his behavior. Our companion will arrive with replacement drinks for you shortly. We are leaving." And, like a force of nature, he pulled me with him to the exit and across the parking lot to Carter's car.


**********

They had no right to take over my life like that. No right at all.

I paced across my living room, the events of the evening circling in a continuous loop in my head.

They were all sitting there, watching me, like vultures waiting for the carrion to stop moving. Smug self-satisfied bastards.

They hadn't spoken a word to me on the way home. No explanations of their actions. No apologies. I wasn't worth the effort.

I didn't need them.

Stopping for a moment, I spat the words I had wanted to say for days into the frigid atmosphere. "Get the hell out of my house."

"No – that's not going to happen. You need us."

I almost had my hands around the geek's neck when Teal'c yanked me back. I shook him off and resumed my pacing. "Woke up this morning and my mama was gone, Ooh-We, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirp"

Where had it all gone - my life? Down the toilet – flushed away like so much sewage. It wasn't worth shit.

"Last night I heard my mama singing this song, Ooh-We, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirpy, Chirpy, Cheep, Cheep, Chirp"

And they still watched me.

I changed direction and headed for the bedroom, slamming the door. They could rot in Hell.

**********

"No!"

I woke up screaming – fighting with everything I had to escape. Ramsey leered down at me, lowered his mouth to mine, his hands everywhere. I fought, but I couldn't move – a frozen struggle of terror and pain. And they watched. My friends watched. Faces I knew – all laughing, smirking, taking pleasure in my loss of control. I struggled until there was no fight left in me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it – nothing. The nightmare went on and on, endlessly as he took enjoyment from me and left me empty.

And I woke, quivering against my bedroom wall, hacking sobs shaking my body, with hands still holding me.

God – to have them see me like this...

Dreams had become reality and it was all falling and dragging me down into the deepest black hole imaginable.

TBC

Exposed To View – General Jack Year Three - Part Nine


My eyes were open, but all I could do was stare at Ramsey's face leaning over me. Voices called my name but I couldn't answer or pull away. The past had become reality and I was lost in it. His eyes were grey, standing out in a face pockmarked by old acne scars. He smiled, his lips wide and his tongue showing, then he turned, looking over to the side, and I followed his gaze to the figure standing watching us – doing nothing.

I struggled, knowing this was different, no longer frozen and numb, but arms stronger than they should be held me.

The face above me changed, wavered, and morphed. Images overlapped and then firmed as grey infirmary walls became pale cream. I felt the wetness of tears tracking down my cheeks at the same time as I realised where I was – and who was in my bedroom with me.

"Do something."

Daniel's voice sounded desperate, but I didn't look up. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and bury myself – hide away where they couldn't see how far I'd fallen. Someone was holding me tight against their chest, their arms wrapped around me. I recognised the strength and power in the hand that rubbed circles on my back. Teal'c.

Shit, shit, shit.

That hole was growing and the dirt was falling in on my head. I doubted I could dig myself out of this one.

I tensed and felt Teal'c grip loosen in response. An avenue of escape opened and I took it, pulling away until my back hit the wall. I huddled against it, my head down and my arms wrapped around my knees, hiding my shame.

I wanted nothing more than to have them leave. I didn’t want witnesses to my humiliation.

It seemed like hours that I hid myself away, trying to deny what had happened, pretending I was alone and able to lick my wounds in private. The quiet words had faded out, but they were still there, now sitting beside me, as silent as I had become.

It couldn't last, but it didn't end the way I had hoped – with the others going, leaving me to my misery. Something had to break—other than an old general. Someone stood, Carter.

"I'll call General Hammond."

Christ – no! No. I had to stop her. My heart pulsed relentlessly in my chest, pushing me to scramble up and lurch after Carter's figure as she left the room. I rebounded off the wall, stumbling and feeling disoriented. She turned, a look of surprise crossing her face and replacing the worry for a moment.

"Sir?"

"Don't. Don't call Hammond. I'm fine."

She took two steps towards me and stopped, her eyes flickering to someone behind me. "I. . . " She paused, clearly at a loss as to what to do. I could understand her dilemma – I had given her an order, but she didn't know whether or not to follow it. Her gaze turned pleadingly to the others I could feel at my shoulder.

I straightened and composed myself. If she called Hammond now I could kiss my command goodbye, despite the promises of the President and the Joint Chiefs. And I wasn't prepared for that to happen. Not now. Not now I knew the truth.

"Please – don't call. At least until you hear me out. Then if you still feel you should, you won't get any argument from me, Carter. Okay?" I turned and met the eyes of my two friends. "Okay, guys?"

Teal'c's gaze burnt holes in my skin as it seemed to pierce me through to my soul. After a long moment, he nodded slowly.

I turned and led the way to the living room, knowing Daniel and Carter would follow Teal'c's lead.

For a few minutes I busied myself making coffee and trying to act as normal as possible, or what passed for normal these days. I gave my face a quick scrub with cold water from the kitchen faucet. When I carried the mugs and coffee pot out, the others had positioned themselves in their normal spots, leaving the single chair for me. I placed the tray carefully on the coffee table and poured myself a cup, waving them to help themselves as I sat.

While they organised their drinks, I took the chance to work out what I needed to say.

Carter was the first to speak. She cupped her hands around the mug as if drawing strength from its warmth.

"You scared me, sir."

I nodded and didn't try to smile. "I scared myself."

"This has gone too far. I don't think we can be any help to you."

I nodded again at Daniel's words. He was right to a certain extent – it had gone too far. But it had also gone just far enough. Far enough to tell me what I needed to know, what I had been hiding from for all these years.

"It was real." The words dropped into the night like stones. I pulled my gaze from my mug to their faces. Daniel and Sam's reflected the dismay they felt, but Teal'c's was calm, as if he already knew. Maybe he had. It was obvious when you stopped denying the evidence. "That last dream was a doozie."

Daniel couldn't stop himself interrupting. "I bet."

A flash of embarrassment caused me to look away again, but I pushed it down and continued. "I should explain what I found out today. Apparently I was caught in an avalanche while on a winter training exercise when I was under Ramsey's command. By the time I was dug out I had stopped breathing. They resuscitated me - gave me mouth-to-mouth." I saw them nodding in understanding as they put two and two together. Daniel was even beginning to look relieved.

"You did not remember this event?"

"No, T, I didn't. Along with several broken ribs, I had a head injury and a severe concussion. I was unconscious for days and still don't really remember much about the accident except for brief flashes, mainly of being buried by the snow."

"Then it's all explained," Daniel said, as if thankful it was all over.

"Unfortunately, no. It can't be completely explained by the accident, even though I tried to convince myself that was the case. You see, there's something I didn't tell you." I took a mouthful of coffee, letting the hot drink soothe my sore throat, and stared into the steam. Then I told them why I hated Ramsey so much. Carter looked both disgusted and relieved when I explained how I rebutted his advances. I knew, of any of them, she would feel the most indignation, hearing about how the trust of a junior officer could be so abused by his superior. Teal'c's lips turned up in a fleeting smile when I described my response to the then colonel.

"So the dreams are just some sort of warped memories of that, twisted in with the effects of a concussion?" Once more Daniel thought he had it all figured out.

I shook my head. Wrong again. "No, Daniel, I'm sorry to say the dreams have much more of a basis in reality than that." I caught Teal'c's look and nodded once, sharply. His face darkened. "Tonight. . . tonight I remembered what happened – not just the accident, but in the base hospital afterwards. Ramsey had me at his mercy, the perfect victim. I was awake enough to be aware of what was going on, but a combination of my concussion and the anaesthetic after being operated on meant I couldn't move, couldn't do anything about it. And afterwards – well, the mind does funny things. I didn't even remember being at Ellsworth, let alone the accident or what happened later."

"God, Jack, I don't know what to say. This is what your nightmares have been about?"

"The memories sort of snuck up on me, Daniel." I ran my hand through my hair, automatically pushing down the unruly strands. "I'm sorry I've put you all through so much crap these last few days. I'm especially sorry for what happened at the restaurant."

"It's okay, sir, we understand."

"Well, I'm glad someone does, Carter, because I don't."

The colonel gave Daniel what looked like a guilty glance. "Ah…Daniel and I have been doing some research into repressed memories. Mood swings are one of the classical symptoms." She looked embarrassed. "So is crying in someone who is not normally given to outward signs of strong emotion."

I felt my face color slightly, but smiled back at her. "So, I'm a classic case, eh, Colonel?"

She returned my smile, looking a bit more at ease.

"We must seek revenge on this sho'vlak."

I switched my attention to Teal'c and found him looking angrier than I had ever seen him. "Ah...?"

Daniel didn't help. "Sorry, Jack, I'm not translating that one. I'm actually somewhat disturbed that I know the meaning of the word."

"I think I get the intent, thanks. And there would be nothing I'd like more than see Ramsey get what he deserved, not just for personal revenge, but for all those kids he's messed with over the years. I may not have been able to stop him then, but I can now, and I intend to do just that."

"He's a powerful man, sir."

I smiled at my friends and knew something of what I intended was reflected in my face when both Daniel and Carter sat back a little as if backing away. "So am I, Carter, so am I."

Daniel stood, pacing over to the fireplace. "I'm still not comfortable with this, Jack." He waved a hand vaguely. "I really feel you need to tell Kasanji what you've remembered and see what he thinks. I mean – do you really think it's all over now, that everything will go back to normal so easily – especially after tonight? Maybe it would be best if you called General Hammond and explain you need more time."

I sat back, feeling the cushions of the chair reassuringly soft against my spine. "I do need more time, but not to talk to Kasanji. It's like a jigsaw I need to put together when the pieces are scattered everywhere. Tonight I got the edges done. Now I need the middle, and I know where to go to find it."

"Where, sir?"

"This time there was someone else in the dream. I'd seen his face before, but didn't put two and two together until I read the report on the accident. He was one of my teammates back then – one of the ones that dug me out. That would explain his presence in my dream, except that he was watching from the doorway while Ramsey..." I swallowed down bile. Maybe I wasn't quite as willing to accept what had happened as I thought. "I intend to track him down and when I do I'm going to get some answers to fill the gaps."

"Do you know where he is now, sir?"

"No. I got transferred out of the unit soon after all this happened. I didn't keep in touch with any of my old teammates, but he shouldn't be too hard to trace. His name is Keith Marsden. He was a captain – a few years older than me so he's probably retired now." I gave Carter a bright smile. "Can you get on to that?"

She smiled back. "Sure, sir. But maybe it could wait until morning?"

I took a quick look at the clock. "Damn, I had no idea how late it was. Let's try and get a few hours sleep and start tracking Marsden down after breakfast." I then addressed Daniel directly. "I will give Hammond a call in the morning, and I'll cancel my appointment with Kasanji." I put up a hand as he began to protest. "Don't worry – I'm not refusing to see him again, but I really feel I'm on the right track here. I need to do this, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay, I can see that."

I turned to the others. "Sam? Teal'c?"

They both nodded in agreement.

I went to bed feeling that I was finally taking control of my life once more. I had been swept along as if in a flooded river and now my feet had touched solid ground again.

**********

I woke feeling more refreshed than I had in weeks, despite only getting a few short hours of sleep. Teal'c was already in the kitchen washing the coffee cups from our late night talk when I went in search of food. I left him to it, and taking the opportunity of some privacy, called Hammond, explaining that while I still needed some more leave time, I felt I was well on the way to recovery.

I just hoped I hadn't made a liar of myself. I knew it wasn't this simple, but I needed to take charge and do this before I could go back to Kasanji. If I was ever going to get back to work I needed answers for the questions he would ask.

It was a good forty minutes before Daniel and then Carter appeared, looking blurry eyed and ready for the first coffee of the day. Actually, to my surprise, Carter brewed a pot of tea which I happily shared, my caffeine intake already near overdose level after the cups I had drunk while eating breakfast.

"I'll get started, sir." She took the last bite of her toast and nodded towards my study. "May I use your computer?"

"Sure – knock yourself out." I led her into the small room and booted up the PC.

She eyed it appreciatively. "Is this new?"

"Yes. I upgraded a couple of months ago. The old one didn't have the memory I wanted or a fast enough processor."

She sat and started typing, then whistled and looked up. "This is very impressive, sir. It's far better than mine. What do you use it for, work?"

'No – just stuff, Carter. Nothing fancy." I hoped she didn't look too closely at what was on the computer while she was using it. I had been in the middle of writing a paper on prime focus imaging.

"I'll leave you to it, Carter."

I got nothing but a distracted nod in response as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Jack, we need to talk." Daniel's sudden appearance along with his serious demeanour took me a little by surprise.

"Sure." I led the way back into the living room, idly noting the empty kitchen as we passed and wondering where Teal'c had got to. Instead of taking my usual seat I chose the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me. "What is it?"

He perched on the arm of the chair. "You know, when Sam told you she was scared last night, she wasn't the only one."

"Aw – come on. I admit the nightmare threw me, but I'm fine now."

"But you're not." He fiddled with his shirt button, but his gaze was fixed on me. "I was scared last night too, Jack. Scared about what you'd do."

"What do you mean – what I'd do? Hey, I'm as embarrassed about the crying thing as you are, but what can I say except sorry and it won't happen again."

In an abrupt move he leaped up and stood over me, and I'm not afraid to say I reeled back a little at his angry expression.

"It isn't the crying, you stupid son of a bitch! It's the manic way you've been acting. Do you know," he spat the words into my face, "I spent an hour after you went back to bed finding everything that could be used as a weapon in this house and hiding them."

I was completely stunned. "I'd never hurt any of you."

He didn't calm down, if anything he got angrier. "I wasn't worried about what you'd do to us. I saw what you were like after Charlie's death, when I first met you, and last night you became that man again."

"I...wouldn't."

"Wouldn't you? The drinking, the women – what were you doing? Denying what you remembered was true? And if that sailor had been as eager to fight as you were, would you be sitting here now or would we be arranging to have your body collected from the morgue? Don't pretend to tell me you weren't looking for an excuse. Damn it, Jack – I know you've tried it before."

I sat, unmoving, hoping against hope he wasn't saying what I thought he was. How could he possibly know?

And I got my answer in his next words.

"You weren't the only one who remembered something last night. Things came back to me too. The way you were acting reminded me of something and I couldn't put my finger on it. Then it came to me. When you were in Ba'al's dungeon, you refused to ascend. I couldn't understand, couldn't understand why you felt so unworthy, so I looked, Jack. I looked inside you – and I saw what you had been hiding. You didn't just think about suicide after Charlie, you tried. You took that pistol, the one that killed your son, and you drove into the mountains. And when you got far enough from anywhere, to a place where you thought you would never be found, you pointed it at your head and you fired. But you hadn't taken into account the affect the combination of days of drinking and lack of sleep would have on your body." He reached forward and pushed the hair off my forehead. "Nice scar, Jack. A fraction of an inch either way and you would have gotten the end you planned. You weren't too happy to wake up hours later and find you had failed."

I felt as if I had just run a marathon – my heart was pounding and I could hardly breathe. I shook my head. "No." But the words were so soft even I had trouble hearing them.

He didn't give me time to argue, even if I had been capable of it.

"This isn't the first time you've tried to repress everything with alcohol. It didn't work the last time, so why would you think it would now? And Jack, none of us are prepared to sit back and watch you kill yourself."

I wouldn't. I wouldn't.

An overwhelming surge of grief washed over me as I realised he was right. I hadn't changed at all. I was still that same man who couldn't even succeed at ending his own life.

I sunk my head into my hands and sat there, wondering why I was bothering to carry on with this whole Ramsey thing. I had figured it out, it was over. He had beaten my spirit into submission back then, and he had again now.

"Oh, shit, Jack, I'm sorry." The chair cushion sank as Daniel sat beside me. "I shouldn't have said all that, but I'm so afraid of what you might do." An arm stretched across my shoulders. I stiffened for a second, then realised he needed to give comfort as much as I needed to accept it, and stayed still, feeling his warmth ease my pain just a little.

"You need to keep that appointment with Kasanji, Jack. I think you know that."

I nodded. He was right. We sat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts and I wondered where this was all leading and whether I would survive finding out.

**********

The sound of the doorbell ringing broke the quiet mood we had both fallen into. I was a little annoyed at the interruption and that I needed to put on the Jack O'Neill façade for the world. I made my way to the front door, just in time to beat Teal'c to opening it.

Walter stood there. I don't know which of us was more surprised which, considering it was my house, was a little odd.

"Walter?"

"General O'Neill. We...ah...I heard you were sick." He thrust a covered dish into my hands. "My wife thought you might like this, sir. It's a casserole."

"You drew the short straw, didn't you, Sergeant? Who put you up to this? Ferretti, Reynolds, Dixon?"

He colored and for the first time I caught him looking embarrassed. "Ah, everyone, sir. We were worried."

They were worried. I almost laughed, hysteria boiling just below the surface.

"You can tell them I'm doing fine and that I'll be back in a few days. Thank them for me and especially thank your wife. I appreciate the thought."

I waited until he had driven away before closing the door, wondering at the rumours that must be circulating about my absence. They probably had me in a padded cell after being seen visiting a psychiatrist at Peterson. The Air Force was worse than an internet chat room when it came to gossip.

I put the dish in the fridge. Teal'c was out in the garden, and I could only hope he hadn't heard anything of my conversation with Daniel. I hurried to check on Carter. She didn't even look up when I entered the study. To my relief, she seemed to have concentrated on searching the internet for mention of my ex-teammate. She jumped when I leaned over her shoulder, giving me a quick smile without stopping what she was doing. Before long I had the information I needed. But it wasn't at all what I expected.

Turned out Keith Marsden was a resident of a veteran's nursing home in Cheyenne.

**********

Daniel drove me to my appointment, leaving Carter and Teal'c to go home and pack for a short trip. I came away from talking to Kasanji feeling worse than I ever thought possible.

Apparently I was exhibiting addictive tendencies. No alcohol, sleeping tablets, or drugs of any kind, and I had a bottle of anti-depressants and the number for the nearest VA hospital's Readjustment Counseling Service in my trouser pocket. It seemed they had a great support program. My enthusiasm knew no bounds.

The only positive was that the doctor approved of my plans to visit Marsden.

Daniel stayed quiet for most of the trip back to my house, but obviously had to ask, breaking his silence just before he turned into my street. "How did it go?"

"Good, Daniel, good."

There were some things I wasn't prepared to share. At least, not yet.

**********

Painful Truths – General Jack Year Three - Part Ten

The nursing home was bright, pleasant and friendly, with an extensive garden dotted with benches in shady spots under the large trees. We were greeted by the director with a welcoming smile and an offer to bring refreshments while we visited.

Maybe I should put my name down on the waiting list with an eye to the future.

I left the others in the communal area and made my way through the winding corridors to Marsden's room. I knocked on the door and entered, to find him sitting by the window, looking out at the residents who braved the chilly air to walk in the grounds.

I schooled my tone, pushing down the fury that rose as I thought of what this man had been a party to.

"Keith."

He turned then, spinning the chair on its wheels with the ease of long practice. "Jack. They told me you'd called, but I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"We made good time."

He nodded, his sightless eyes staring at me from his ravaged face. "I know you're not here to just shoot the breeze, Jack, not after all these years."

Even knowing he couldn't see the gesture, I shook my head. "No, I'm not."

"Then sit down and get to it."

His words were tense and it was obvious he took no more pleasure in the visit than I did.

I sat as he requested. As angry as I was with the man, I wasn't prepared to stand over him.

"I want to know what happened when I was injured at Ellsworth."

"That's a long time ago, Jack. Why bring it up again now?"

I decided to stop beating around the bush. I wanted the truth.

"I didn't remember anything about it until recently. I still don't know everything, but one thing I do remember is you – standing, watching, and doing nothing, and I want to know why. What did Ramsey have over you to make you do that? Or were you a party to it as well? Did you get me as a reward after he'd finished?"

His hand thumped on the chair arm, hard enough for the sound to carry to where I sat. "How can you think that? I was your team leader, and I thought I was your friend. How could you possibly think I'd do that?"

"But you don't deny you knew what Ramsey was doing and did nothing to stop it."

He didn't reply immediately and I wondered at the guilt that must be keeping him silent. He turned the chair back to the window, the whirl of the electric motor seeming out of place in the quiet room, and I realised my first impression was wrong. He hadn't been watching the activity outside when I first entered. Maybe it was the touch of the breeze on his face that he craved, or he was listening to the soft whisper of other voices coming to him from the garden, and with a shock I also realised I had no idea how or when he had been so badly injured. I looked at him more closely, seeing the empty trouser leg and the missing arm. Whatever it had been, he was lucky to have survived.

Compassion rose for the wreck of a man I saw before me and I waited patiently, allowing him the time he clearly needed.

It was several minutes before he spoke.

"You said you don't remember? Nothing?"

"I didn't remember being at Ellsworth at all. I've had flashes of the accident and the hospital but that's it."

"The accident..." His face took on a pensive look. "We thought we'd lost you. The avalanche came out of nowhere. The rest of the group managed to get clear, but you were at the front of the line. You were swept down the mountain, but I was too busy trying to get out of the way myself to see where you'd ended up. We couldn't find you at first, and when we did it looked like we were too late. You weren't breathing. It seemed to take forever for us to get you breathing again – tag teaming the CPR." He shuddered. "I can still hear the crack your ribs made when I pushed down. They had taken a battering already and I finished the job."

"You got me back."

"Yes – didn't think we were going to, but finally, you took a couple of breaths. We were miles from the base and out of radio contact – a nice refinement on the ordinary training exercise that Ramsey insisted on. He said we needed to experience what it was like to be in hostile territory with no lifeline to pull us out. You were blue with the cold and wet through. We stripped you down and I shared a sleeping bag with you while the others did what they could to protect us from the storm that blew in."

He paused for a moment as if seeing it again in his mind's eye. "That day certainly pushed our survival skills to the limit. We had the bare minimum of supplies and equipment and weren't prepared for an emergency situation. I think that was the point. Ramsey always was a cold hearted bastard. I could never prove it, but I think he sent us into that area knowing it was unstable. Just another one of his nasty little tests."

More came clear as he spoke. The feeling of naked flesh and mouths – just as I thought when I had read the incident report – all explained. But I knew it didn't end there.

"We finally got you back. You hadn't regained consciousness at all and I was beginning to wonder if you ever would – you'd been under the snow for a long time, maybe too long. But the base hospital was well equipped for exactly your sort of injuries so we were told there was a good chance you'd pull through. We were kept pretty busy over the next few days. The colonel sent us back out again – said we hadn't completed the exercise successfully. When we got back the first thing I did was go check on you."

He paused again, finally turning back from the window, to move himself over to the small table at the side of the bed. He poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the tray. I didn't offer to help. It didn't look as if he needed any, his actions showing the skill of long practice.

"They wouldn't let me in at first, but I insisted. You hadn't regained consciousness and everyone was worried you never would. The guys and I sat with you whenever we could – whenever we were allowed, which wasn't often. It was eight or nine days after the accident when. . ."

This time the pause was long enough to make me feel it wouldn't end. "When what?"

"You didn't remember this at all."

"No."

He nodded as if something had been explained. "I did wonder why..."

Once again he paused, but this time he continued after just a few seconds. "It was late. I wasn't able to sleep and decided to go sit with you a while. Visitors weren't allowed in the infirmary at night, so I snuck in. It turned out I shouldn't have bothered sneaking – there was no sign of anyone on duty, except the radio at the nurses' station was on. One of those stupid songs everyone was humming at the time was playing and I remember thinking it was up far too loud. It seemed a little odd but I just assumed the night nurse had gone for a break and forgotten to turn it off. You were in a small side ward and there was no one else in the infirmary at all, you were the only patient. I got as far as the door to your room before I realised there was anything wrong. I don't know why it took that long – maybe because of the music or maybe because I used to think of hospitals as places where you got looked after, safe places."

He took another sip of water.

"It was dark – just the dim light from the corridor. There was someone with you, up on the bed with you. At first I thought it was the nurse checking your bandages or something. To be honest I don't know what I thought. Then I heard the noises. . ." He stopped again, swallowing. "I don't remember running over, I just found myself there beside the bed without consciously moving. I pulled him off and turned you over. You were awake, staring up at me, but you didn't say anything, I don't think you were really conscious at all. I pulled the blankets over you and that was when he grabbed me. It wasn't until then that I even realised it was Colonel Ramsey. I didn't get a chance to defend myself – the whole thing had only taken a minute of so and I was stunned by what I'd seen. I think he punched me. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the holding cell. No one came near me for two days except to bring me food. I couldn't get anyone to listen. I didn't know what was going on." He shook his head at the memory.

"I have to tell you, Jack, I was pretty desperate. It seemed that Ramsey had the place sewn up tight. I thought I'd end up beaten to death in some back alley somewhere." He shook his head again, his fist thumping on the arm of the chair again. "For a long time I thought it would have been better if I had died."

His despair overwhelmed my own and the anger completely drained from me. "What happened?"

"I was taken from the cell in the middle of the night, blindfolded and driven miles from the base. They told me Colonel Ramsey sent his regards and laughed as they drove away. I got the blindfold off and found myself in a field. I thought I was on the right track by following the marks of the truck tires. I moved slowly, making sure I stuck to the middle of the ruts."

His voice got softer as he was lost in the memory.

"Then clouds covered the moon. It was too dark to see my hand in front of my face. I knew I wandered off the track, but I just thought Ramsey wanted me to get lost. . . I wish it had been that simple. It was a mine field. He'd had me dumped in the middle of a fucking mine field. As soon as I wandered off the safe track I was gone. There was an almighty bang and that was the last I knew for months."

"Oh, god – Keith."

He continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"They said I was lucky to survive. I didn't think so. Just about every bone in my face was smashed and even when I did wake up I couldn't speak. Then I just wanted to die. I have to admit, Jack, but the last thing I wanted to think about was you. You got mixed up in my mind with the colonel. Even though Ramsey gave the order to dump me out there in the mine field, I'm sorry to say I blamed you for much of what happened. There wasn't any point trying to tell anyone the truth, Ramsey had covered his tracks much too well. I had been on a solo exercise and had got lost. It was my fault, or so it was explained to me. Everyone was very sympathetic. I got moved from one VA hospital to another until I ended up here." He turned his head as if looking around at the room. "It's okay. In fact, it's more than okay – it's home. I'm used to it now."

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"No. About a year after it happened I got a visit from three very threatening men. They explained the facts of life to me in words of one syllable. I never heard from you again – it was as if you'd fallen off the face of the Earth. I even thought Ramsey might have gotten rid of you too, plus there was a touch of guilt there too – that I hadn't been able to protect you. You were just a kid." His closed fist hit the chair again, his actions showing much more of his true feelings than his words did. "I didn't have any family left and my only friends were people I served with. One thing led to another and gradually the visitors stopped coming, especially after Desert Storm. It was a high risk profession we had, Jack."

There was nothing left to deny. Marsden's words had stripped any pretence from my memories and left nothing but stark truth. The puzzle was finally together, with all the pieces in place, but it wasn't completed – it needed to be put in its box.

I stood and moved to Marsden's side, bending down to speak quietly. "Ramsey's going to pay, Keith. I promise – for what he did to me, but especially for what he did to you."

"How? What can you do? I've kept track of him. He has more power now than he ever did. If you go up against him he'll kill you, or worse – he'll do to you what he did to me."

"Don't worry about me, Keith."

He didn't listen, his voice getting more agitated. "Don't use what happened to me as an excuse, Jack. I don't want your death on my conscience. If you need to seek revenge after all these years for yourself, I can understand that, but don't bring me into it."

I thought about all the pain Ramsey had had a hand in over the years, from my parachute mishap in Iran, to Janet Frasier's death. I wasn't doing this just for Keith. I was ridding the planet of a parasite that should have been eliminated years ago.

I took my leave of Marsden, a plan already forming in my head.

**********

I told my friends what I had discovered, leaving nothing out. I needed their cooperation for my plan to work. Even Teal'c was shocked by my description of Marsden's injuries and I saw the same need for revenge growing in their eyes that I knew was already fiercely burning in mine – especially after I confirmed my worst fears were true, and that my nightmares were, if anything, mild in comparison to reality.

Then I explained my plan to them. The risks were high, but the end result had a symmetry that was elegant in its maliciousness. Carter and Daniel looked slightly sick when I described it, but Teal'c just nodded and smiled grimly.

They say revenge is a dish best eaten cold, but I prefer it warm and stinking of my enemy's blood. I want to stick the knife in and hear him scream for mercy – screams I hadn't been able to utter when he raped me in the dark so many years before. I would make him suffer and I would have vengeance.


TBC

Loaded for Bear – General Jack Year Three - Part Eleven


Plunk.

Now that was a sound I could never get enough of.

Plunk.

I reeled my line in again then released it with a slight flick of my wrist, watching the hook fall into the water.

Plunk.

Ripples rolled outwards across the otherwise still surface of the pond. I tipped my hat forward over my eyes, stretched my legs even further in front of me, crossing them at the ankles, and shifted my grip on the rod until it was lightly balanced.

Bliss.

My pocket vibrated.

For a few seconds I pondered on ignoring it, maybe even getting some tiny pleasure out of the feeling as it frantically tried to attract my attention, but decided against it. Even I'm not that desperate, plus I suspected I knew who was calling. I pushed my hat back and squinted up at the sky, gauging the time by the sun.

Yep.

I had missed my daily check in.

Don't take it out on the phone. Don't take it out on the phone.

Muttering the mantra under my breath, I yanked my cell from my pocket.

"O'Neill."

"Good evening, General."

"Yes, I know. I didn't call. What can I say? I hope you haven't been sitting by the phone waiting. You know we agreed you could go out with other guys."

"Very amusing, sir." Doctor Kasanji's tone was light, but I could tell he wasn't seeing the joke at all. "A condition of your being alone at your cabin is that you contact me once a day, before six in the evening."

"Sorry, I lost track of time. Those two bottles of Jim Beam I drank for breakfast sure killed a few brain cells. Couldn't even remember my own name, let alone your number."

"Sir. . ."

"All right. I was fishing, okay. I was relaxed. I was happy. At least until this call. Thanks for killing the mood, Doc." I felt a rush of anger and squashed it down, continuing in as calm a tone as I could manage. "Look – I apologise. I really did lose track of time."

"I do understand, sir, but you also have to understand that making regular contact isn't for my benefit, it's for yours. As I explained, we need to carefully monitor the effects the medication you are taking may have on you."

I nodded wearily. "Yes, I know and I do understand. It isn't a miracle cure. I will probably still experience some flashbacks and mood swings, yadda yadda yadda."

"Yes, sir. And if you do experience any of these symptoms or anything else out of the ordinary, you need to report them to me so the dosage can be adjusted if required." There was a pause and I waited for the inevitable question. "Have you experienced any of the symptoms we have discussed?"

"I'm feeling annoyed now. Does that count?"

"General O'Neill. . ."

I interrupted, not liking the warning tone I heard in Kasanji's voice. I didn't want these brief few days of freedom cut short because of a stupid fit of temper. Besides, I knew he was right.

"No, Doctor, I haven't, and I will be sure to tell you if I do."

"Good." There was another, longer pause and when he spoke again I could hear an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice. "I understand General Hammond is visiting you tomorrow to discuss your future. Would you like me to attend the meeting?"

I genuinely thought about his offer for a moment. I had come to value Doctor Kasanji's advice, but this was something I needed to face on my own.

"No thanks. I take it you have discussed my case with him?"

"Yes, I have. As you know, I was asked, by the Joint Chiefs, to report on your progress."

"And?" I wedged my rod between my leg and the chair, pulled my hat off and ran my hand through my hair, wriggling in the seat to try and ease some of the tension that had suddenly sent my muscles into hard knots.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'd rather not discuss this over the phone. We should set up an appointment." There was the tap tap of one of those stylus thingies on a PDA. "Would Thursday at 10am by convenient?"

"Given that it is after I speak to General Hammond, I don't think there would be any point, do you?" And yes – this time I allowed my annoyance to show in my voice.

"Sir – I have only told my superiors as much as they need to help them make a decision regarding your future. I have not disclosed anything you have said in confidence to me while in our sessions, nor have I volunteered anything other than what was necessary to assist them. I have no idea what conclusion they have come to – I am not privy to that information, therefore I would like to see you, my patient, after you are told their decision." I didn't speak, so he continued after another brief pause. "General, you need to see me after you meet with General Hammond. A brief phone call is not enough. I hope you understand that."

I did. Of course I did.

"Alright, Thursday then. Pencil me in." I didn't wait for his answer. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I terminated the call, and looked at the phone, feeling the urge to throw it into the lake.

This whole idea of getting away and forgetting about the situation was pointless if I was reminded of it at every turn. Daily calls to my psychiatrist and now Hammond's visit . . .

I reeled in my line, picked up my stuff, and headed for the house.

**********

I wanted a beer.

I didn't need one, but boy, did I ever want one.

I had to stop thinking about Hammond and the fact he was coming all the way from Washington DC to Minnesota just to talk to me.

A trip into town would do the trick. It was far too early for the only bar to be open, and my drinking buddies would be working, so there was no temptation there. I could take a leisurely stroll down the main street, and have a look at some of the shops that had opened over the last few years.

I grabbed my jacket and wallet and headed out.

**********

Stevensville had changed. It had gone from being a small town of a few hundred people who all knew each other, to a town flooded with summer tourists where McDonalds vied with KFC for the dining dollar. Even finding a parking spot was difficult until an SUV filled with kids and driven by a frazzled looking mother pulled out right in front of me without indicating. I narrowly avoided hitting her rear and instead of giving her a blast of the horn slid smoothly into the space she had vacated.

I left my jacket in the truck and jumped down, making sure it was locked – something else that had changed over the years. The time when you could leave your car with the window down and the shopping on the front seat had long gone.

It came as quite a surprise to realise how many of the stores around me were new since my last vacation here. I hadn't been to my cabin in over a year, and even then it was a fleeting visit after being dropped there by Ancient transporter. I tried to remember how long it had been since I'd done more than pass through town, stopping only to pick up a few groceries. Maybe three, four years? It could have been longer. Damn – no wonder it had changed.

A small shop beckoned me in, its front window tastefully displaying a few vases with some rather well arranged flowers, with a distinctly Japanese feel. It seemed the perfect place to start getting reacquainted with the local shopkeepers.

I pushed the door open and stopped.

What the hell?

The interior was dim and darkly painted in what I would have taken to be black if I didn't find that too hard to believe. The crowded space was taken up with candles, some burning brightly from stands, others glowing from inside glasses and vases. I entered, letting the door slide shut.

Candles. Nothing but candles.

And it stunk like a cheap whorehouse after the marines had landed.

"Can I help you, sir?" A small woman, dressed in muted greens, smiled up at me. "Are you looking for a gift?"

For Teal'c perhaps, but I couldn't see him getting much value out of the tiny excuses for candles that filled most of the shelves.

I shook my head, feeling the need to explain. "Ah, no. I haven't seen your shop before and wondered what you sold."

She nodded genially. "We stock the widest range of candles in this part of the county."

"Yes, it's certainly impressive." Her smile broadened. "What else do you sell?"

"Of course we have many different accessories. Candle sticks, vases, small ponds for the floating tea-lights, and oil burners, along with a lot more."

"Oil burners?" I looked around for some sort of heating equipment, but she gestured around the shelves.

"We have over fifty essential oils and other aromatherapy products."

The smell was clogging my nostrils and beginning to give me a headache, so I thanked her politely and promised I'd be back when I needed a birthday present for the lady in my life, then made a strategic withdrawal.

Standing out on the pavement once more, taking deep breaths, I wondered how a shop that sold nothing but candles managed to be economically viable. And who the hell bought stuff there. I couldn't see the point myself.

The next store seemed a better prospect. It was a bookshop and I'd always liked books.

It took me all of five minutes to decide the universe was playing some sort of cosmic joke on me. There were books on home decorating, cooking, quilting, needlework, cottage crafts, and even, ironically, candle making, but not a single mystery novel or best seller. The closest there was to fiction was a collection of tiny books on the counter with titles like "The Little Book of Happiness" and "One Hundred Ways to Say You Love Him." And no, it wasn't a sex manual – just some trite and rather sickly poems illustrated with pastel drawings of flowers. I should know, because I looked, actually having gotten my hopes up after reading the cover.

The next shop was filled with needlework kits and knitting yarn. I could see that through the window – no way was I going in there.

The final store in the row seemed to stock jars of jelly with little cloth hats on and ribbons around their necks.

I had been sucked up by an alien device and deposited in an alternate reality populated by people who seemed to have an awful lot of time on their hands and way too much money to spend.

Shuddering, I turned the corner and found myself grinning. There was "O'Neill's Bait and Hunting Emporium", just as it had been since I was a teenager. My grandfather had explained it used to be owned by his elder brother, until he lost his business in the depression, and each new owner had never bothered to change the name. When I was young I had been unsure whether to be embarrassed or proud by my connection and had alternated between avoiding the place at all cost to hanging around in there like a bad smell.

I looked in the window, pleased to see the place hadn't changed much. The shelves were crammed with stock and nets hung on every wall. I wandered in, looking at the lures, rods and reels with eyes filled with avarice.

Maybe I'd get some crawlers while I was here. I could probably do with a new reel. And those lures over in the middle aisle looked pretty – well – pretty.

"Jack, long time no see."

A man even taller than myself emerged from the door I knew led to the back storage areas. He was almost bald, with a fringe of dark blonde greying hair and vivid blue eyes. It took me a second, but then it clicked – Simon, one of my friends from the final year I had spent in high school here.

I strode forward, my hand extended to take his. "Simon, what the hell are you doing here? Last I heard you were in Seattle."

He shook my hand vigorously. "I couldn't stand the place, so the wife and I brought the kids back here and I bought 'O'Neill's'."

"You own the bait shop?" I let out a loud laugh. "You hate fishing."

"I bought the bait and hunting shop." He pointed to the rifles lined up along the back wall. "Fishing I hated, but put a rifle in my hands and I'm in heaven."

"Yeah, I remember." I walked down the row, admiring the weapons. I'd done a bit of deer hunting, but it had never really appealed and now even less so.

Simon followed me, reaching up to take down a Remington. "How long are you here? Maybe we could go hunting. I could organise a licence for you if you'd like."

"No thanks." I shook my head as I accepted the rifle from him. "I'm not really into hunting these days – except fish. You're welcome to come out to the cabin and join me." I indicated the rods further down the store, "Bring a couple of those, maybe we could try them out."

"Depends," Simon took the rifle back and carefully replaced it in its spot. "How long are you here for?"

"I'm not sure. I have to be back in Colorado Springs by Thursday."

"Is that where you're living now? You still with the Air Force?"

I gave him the short answer. "Yep."

"So you can't stay longer?"

"No, why?"

We started walking back towards the front of the shop. I saw that a woman was now behind the main counter and gave her a slight smile as we approached.

"I'm taking the next few days off. Going bear hunting with some buddies. Are you sure you won't come along?"

"No, thanks, Simon. I have to report in on Thursday." I hoped the white lie would be enough to stop him asking again. No way was I going bear hunting – or any other hunting for that matter. I'd done enough hunting of men over the years to last me several lifetimes and hunting animals for pleasure wasn't something I ever intended to do again.

"Patty, this is Jack O'Neill. We were at school together."

The woman was about our age and a lot shorter than Simon. She gave him an exasperated, but affectionate smile and reached out a hand. "Hi, I'm Patty, Simon's wife."

The pleasantries over, she offered me a coffee, which I gratefully accepted. We sat at the counter for a while, sipping our drinks and talking about old times. When the rather sketchily remembered stories of our misspent youth ran out, Patty went out back and returned with some photos of their children – a boy and a girl, both still in high school.

By the time I left it was getting on for lunchtime. I stopped in at the grocery store and grabbed a few things to make a quick meal. George was due to arrive soon and I wanted to have eaten before we had our talk. I didn't know if I'd have much of an appetite afterwards.

The time I'd spent with Simon and Patty had eased my tension a little. It had been good to forget about things for a bit, to relax and pretend I was just an average person on holiday at my cabin for a few days.

I made a sandwich and carried it down to the edge of the lake and tried to think of nothing much of anything.

**********

I heard the car pull up. For a moment I contemplated staying where I was, making Hammond come find me, but it was only for a moment. No blame for this whole situation could be attached to George, quite the opposite in fact, and he didn't deserve to be the outlet for my frustration.

I stood, brushed the crumbs off myself, and walked around the side of the cabin, finding the General just getting out of his staff car.

"Hi, George. Good trip?"

"Long, Jack, long. Why did you have to pick such an out of the way place to hole up in?" He stretched his back, wiggled his head from side to side, and gave a pained grunt. "I feel like I've done nothing but travel for hours."

I smiled at his complaints, as I know he intended me to. "Maybe because you have? Why don't we go sit out back." I turned back to address the politely waiting driver. "Come into the cabin, Sergeant, and have something to drink. There's coffee in the pot, or coke in the fridge if you prefer."

I led the way and soon had the sergeant settled, somewhat uneasily, in front of the television with a drink and a sandwich. I carried a tray with coffee and cookies out to where I had already set up a small table and a couple of comfortable chairs.

George looked around as he settled into his chair. "This is nice, Jack. I didn't get a chance to appreciate it properly the last time I was here."

I thought of the fleeting visit he and Davis had made to come get me after I returned from offworld, and nodded. The parallels with the consequences of that adventure were unmistakable. I decided I'd had enough of polite conversation.

"So what's the verdict, George?" I put down the mug I had barely touched and leaned forward.

He leaned back and stared out over the water, seeming unwilling to meet my eye. It wasn't like him. He had always been upfront with me and, with a sinking feeling, I knew it was bad.

"Jack, I'm sorry, but you won't be getting back command of the SGC. General Hank Landry will take command officially on Monday."

"Hank's a good man. He'll be fine."

He seemed surprised at my calm tone, not knowing that inside I was dying. I had expected this, but now the words had been said it was as if someone had taken a knife and cut out my heart. "So, that's it? I get to retire on medical grounds and finally get some serious fishing in?"

And Ramsey wins. No way in hell.

I didn't have long to wait for my answer. Hammond finally turned, moving closer and putting a hand on my knee.

"You can't be in command of the SGC while on the medication Doctor Kasanji has prescribed. You still aren't well. You know that, son." I nodded because I did know it, and he continued. "There is a vacant post in Washington. The President was hoping you would take it."

How ironic. I couldn't be trusted to run my own base but I could sit in an office in the Pentagon and make decisions that would affect everyone. I didn't even ask what the position was before I was shaking my head. "I'd sooner retire."

His hand squeezed my knee – hard enough to make me look up from the ground. "That isn't an option. I knew that would be your answer when President Hayes suggested the post. When I pointed that out, he told me that neither he, nor General Jumper, would accept your resignation. As of now you can consider yourself on indefinite medical leave." He sat back again, taking his cup up. "Sort yourself out, Jack. Then, when you're ready, we can discuss your future. None of us want to lose you, and certainly not this way."

I gave a brief nod, having no choice in the matter. I couldn't find anything to say, so I stayed silent, watching the trees across the lake shivering in the breeze.

Everything seemed remarkably serene, like a painting of the perfect landscape, with every rock and blade of grass positioned just right. It was as if the world surrounding us had come to a halt and was holding its breath along with me.

Waiting.

"I'm surprised you're here alone, Jack. I expected SG-1 to be with you."

"They have work to do." I could hear the hardness in my own voice. "They can't be expected to put their lives and careers on hold because I have a problem." I turned, seeing surprise in Hammond's face. "They wanted to come, but I told them 'no'. I don't need nursemaids any more, General."

I stood, collecting up the cups and plates.

"Are you okay, son?"

I didn't turn.

"Fine, thanks, sir." I started for the back door of the cabin. "Could you send the paperwork to my house? I'll be home on Thursday and get everything signed then. I'd rather not have a big fuss made of my leaving the SGC, if you don't mind. I'm sure you understand."

His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the unusual silence that now enveloped me.

"Jack, are you sure you don't want someone to be here with you? This must have been a shock. . . "

I cut him short. "No, not really, sir. I expected it. It was the most likely scenario under the circumstances. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to be rude and cut this short. I'm going hunting. It's bear season."

*********

I was back inside before the large black car turned out of the drive and the whiskey was hitting the back of my throat just as its wheels scrunched from the dirt onto the gravel.

I stood at the window, watching the shadows grow long and sinister, changing everything to black.

And I finally took a breath and used it, meaning each word of what I was saying, feeling them settle deeply into every part of me.

"All the old knives that have rusted in my back, I drive in yours."

Phaedrus had said it first, but now, so many centuries later, his hatred still resonated, and it took life in me.

TBC

Acting on Impulse – General Jack Year Three - Part Twelve

Christ, I was dying here!

I made another run for the bathroom and, after puking my guts out again, finally decided to stay there – a decision I should have made yesterday soon after I'd slugged those three shots of whiskey. I hunkered down next to the toilet, one arm resting across my stomach and my knees pulled up tight, and waited for the next wave of nausea.

Maybe I should call someone. A doctor. A mortician.

But then I'd have to admit I'd been a total moron and that wasn't something I was prepared to do.

No, I'd just have to ride it out. Eventually I'd stop throwing up. Or I'd die. At the moment it was an each way bet which was the better option.

Goodness knows how much later it was that a sharp rap on the door woke me from the stupor I'd fallen into.

I knew whoever had decided to come calling would know I was home by the truck out the front and the windows thrown wide open, so I couldn't just ignore them. I got to my knees, groaning at the need to move my abused body, and using the toilet seat, hauled myself up. I didn't look in the mirror. My visitor could take me as they found me, tell me their business, leave and let me go back to camping out in the bathroom with my head down the bowl.

The distance to my cabin door had never seemed so far. I got there and yanked it open.

"O'Neill, I . . ."

The rest of Teal'c's words were lost in a somewhat startled squawk as he caught me.

"Bathroom – quick," I managed to moan into his chest.

As I would have expected, the one member of SG-1 I could almost always rely on to follow my orders dragged me straight to where I wanted to go. He kept hold of me as I expelled more of the stomach acid that was all I had left in me, and then left me kneeling there while he got me a glass of water.

I swallowed it gratefully, feeling it ease the burning in my throat a little.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome. You are unwell?"

I took up my position on the floor again, my back against the wall, and looked up at him, shaking my head. "No, just stupid."

He raised the Eyebrow of Death and I felt compelled to explain further. "I had a couple of drinks."

"I understood the medication you are on reacts extremely poorly with alcohol."

"Yeah, well. . . it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How long have you been indisposed?"

I almost managed a smile at the 'indisposed'. Trust Teal'c to make puking seem dignified.

"I don't know. What time is it?"

"It is early morning, O'Neill."

I made a quick calculation. "About twelve hours then."

He raised a second eyebrow to join the first. "Should you not seek medical assistance?"

I turned back and spat into the toilet then pulled myself up and stood, swaying, my eyes shut. "No."

"Do you feel that is wise?" A hand I assumed was his steadied me.

"I'll be fine. I feel better already." I waited, hoping the world would stop spinning around me, and when it didn't, blindly pointed in the direction of the living room. "Give me a hand?"

It wasn't until I was lying on the couch that Teal'c spoke again. "You are correct, O'Neill."

I waited, and when he didn't speak again, opened one eye and looked up at him. "What?"

"You are stupid."

Oh god! I really didn't need this. My mood went from sorry for myself to angry in the blink of one of my extremely red eyes.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

He moved away, sitting in the armchair opposite. "General Hammond contacted me and asked me to come. He said he didn't want you to be alone."

"Did he tell you why?"

"Merely that he was concerned for you." His eyes turned to the coffee table and I realised the still open bottle of whiskey was sitting there. "Rightly so, it seems." I could tell by his voice that he was worried and I found my anger lessening slightly. "What has transpired, O'Neill?"

I shut my eyes again and rested my head on the couch arm. "Nothing much. I've just lost my command and probably my career. You'll be getting a new commander on Monday. Don't give him too much lip, he's one of the best."

"Lip?"

"Trouble, back-chat. I know how you are – can't keep your mouth shut, always mouthing off."

He didn't answer, and I peered at him. He was looking at me and doing that silent routine he always tried when he wanted me to talk. Well, it wasn't going to work this time. No way.

"So, you drew the short straw?" Crap. I shut up again, determined not to say anything else. "I'm fine. You didn't have to come." Damn!

"Yes, O'Neill, you are clearly 'fine'." I never knew so much meaning could be injected into one word. For a man of few words, Teal'c sure says a lot.

I sat up, putting my feet down on the floor. I couldn't take my eyes from the tall, half-filled bottle in the middle of the table, so close to my hand.

Then it was gone.

I jerked, startled as Teal'c grabbed it and walked out of the room. The sound of liquid running down a drain came seconds later and I yelled out a protest. "Hey! That's good stuff." I stood, ready to follow him to the kitchen, a wave of anger making my eyes blur and my heart race, but I barely managed three steps when the nausea hit again – this time even fiercer than before and I doubled over. Everything went black.

**********

"Stay still."

I struggled against the hand that pressed against my chest, holding me down. I wasn't going to just lie there this time. This time I would fight. I pushed, digging my nails in, trying anything to make him let me up. There was a gasp of pain and for a moment I thought I had won – that this time he wouldn't take me. It was a dream, but it wasn't, it was real, and if it was real I'd lost.

"O'Neill. Stop."

I wouldn't stop, because stopping meant giving in.

**********

"He appears to have experienced another flashback to the incident, doctor."

I lay still and listened as Teal'c spoke to Doctor Kasanji, cringing at every word as my failure was laid out baldly. I had thought I was strong, that now I knew what had happened, I would be able to deal with it. I wasn't going to have any more nightmares, I wasn't going to let myself get depressed. I would handle things.

Well, I wasn't strong at all. I was weak.

Too weak.

I lay there and wallowed in my misery as my gut twisted again.

Footsteps and a hand on my arm.

"Doctor Kasanji says that the nausea should pass sometime in the next twenty-four hours. He is very disappointed, O'Neill, and suggested I return you to his care immediately. When I refused he gave me instructions I must follow. Here," the hand pushed at me and I opened my eyes. "You must drink as much water as possible to re-hydrate yourself."

I nodded, sitting up and taking the glass he offered.

"Have you taken your correct dosage of the medication he has prescribed?" I nodded again, and he eyed me in a calculating fashion as if gauging my truthfulness, before nodding. "Then it is time for your next dose."

I accepted the pill he held out and swallowed it down.

He took the empty glass from me. "Now, try to sleep." I lay back down, obediently closing my eyes, not wanting to fight the lethargy that had me firmly in its grip.

"Do not worry, O'Neill. I will watch over your dreams." Teal'c's large hand brushed my sweaty hair from my temple in a surprisingly gentle gesture, "You are not alone."

**********

I eyed the eggs on my plate distrustfully, but knew better than to refuse to eat them. I wasn't vomiting anymore, but my stomach was still rather tender, and I would much rather have had a piece of dry toast. But one look at Teal'c's intimidating frown and I forgot about arguing. I pushed my fork into the yolk and hooked a piece, swallowing it with as much appearance of pleasure as I could manage.

The conversation was nonexistent. There wasn't really anything I could say that Teal'c didn't already know. I'd been stupid. Two days of throwing up was mild compared to what could have happened. I was lucky.

Hammond had sent Teal'c to watch me. He must have organized it almost as soon as he'd left my place, arranging to have him on a plane as soon as possible, with a hire car waiting when he landed. I was grateful for the tact he had shown, having T drive himself. The thought of some Airman seeing me in the condition I had been in was something else I didn't even want to contemplate. I may have lost my command, but I hadn't, I hope, lost my dignity. T had seen me at my worst before and I was sure, understood, even if he didn't approve, but I was very, very glad Carter and Daniel had both been offworld when the call came in.

Now, somewhat weak and shaky, feeling empty and yet not hungry, I was ready to do what I needed to.

I looked over at my friend, watching as he drew a deep draft of orange juice in. He was staring at me, his expression so unemotional that I could almost feel the concern reaching out to touch me. I thought for a few more moments, wondering if perhaps George had realised just how apt it was that he had sent me Teal'c. The man who had been First Prime and leader of thousands of men. The man who had lived far longer than I had, and done far worse things in his lifetime than I could ever conceive.

My brother.

He would truly understand.

"The bastard has got to suffer more – far more. I've lost my command because of him. I've almost lost my sanity. Because of him. I want him to know what it's like to lose everything."

"You have not lost everything, O'Neill."

I nodded slowly. "They won't let me retire, T, but I don't know what they hope to achieve by that. The President wanted me to take a post in Washington."

He frowned. "I am surprised."

"You and me both. I don't know if he offered it because he knew I wouldn't take it and at least had made the gesture, or if he genuinely expected me to accept. Needless to say, I declined."

"Indeed." He paused, clearly thinking. "O'Neill, I must ask. Are your superiors aware of the true cause of your illness?"

I couldn't help giving a small smirk, lowering my head as I did so. "If they were, do you think they would have left me free to act?" I spun my knife, watching it twirl on the tabletop.

"What did you tell Doctor Kasanji?"

The knife turned, its blade shining in the light. "He knows about the accident – the avalanche. And I told him about Ramsey's advances towards me, but I haven't told him the full story."

"Do you think that is wise? Would it not be beneficial for you to relate to him what you now recall of the incident?"

I put my hand out and stopped the blade, then looked up. "Maybe. But I'm not going to."

Teal'c's gaze held mine. "Is not trust one of the key elements in the relationship you should now have with your psychiatrist?"

"Yes." I nodded. "But there are very few people I can truly trust. Kasanji isn't one of them. You are."

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. "As I do you, O'Neill." He kept his eyes on mine. "We do what we must."

**********

The dampness of the night crept slowly into my bones as I waited, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I clutched my jacket more firmly across my chest, a passing thought that it overlapped somewhat more than the last time I had worn it running thought my mind.

The large house was set well back from the road, something that had figured in my calculations. It wouldn't do for a casual passer-by to come running to the rescue or call the cops. The trees were another advantage, their large trunks and heavy branches obscuring much of the drive.

I was about to stretch my leg out to ease the stiffness growing in my knee when I heard the car. Instead of moving, I froze in place, giving the windows of the mansion a quick glance. They stayed dark behind their thin lace curtains and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The Cadillac cruised to a halt and I stood, slipping out of the concealment of the bushes.

There was, as I had hoped, only one person in the vehicle. The engine shut off and the driver's door opened.

I approached him silently, coming up behind just as he pulled a briefcase from the passenger seat and began to turn. The soft slam of the car door muffled his exclamation as I slipped an arm around his scrawny throat.

"Evening, sir." I put ever ounce of hatred I could muster into those two words and felt him stiffen in my grasp. "Bet you didn't expect to see me." Keeping the pressure on him, I pushed him down the drive. His briefcase dropped from his grasp, but I bent slightly and picked it up with my free hand, needing only one to keep the decrepit old man under control. I didn't want to leave obvious signs that something had happened to him – his car was locked and everything looked normal to a casual observer.

The car I was using, a nondescript sedan, was where I had left it – out of sight in the driveway of the next house. After three days of surveillance, my assumption that the occupants would be sound asleep at this late hour had been correct. I shoved Ramsey into the vehicle, swiftly securing his hands with the plastic ties I had brought for the purpose and handcuffing them to the seatbelt buckle in the back seat and wrapping a gag around his face before he could utter more than a few grunts.

I jumped into the driver's seat and looked back at him in the mirror, finding his eyes locked on mine. The heavy weight of my pistol pressing into the small of my back was a reminder of just how simple it would be to deal with him here and now. I could get rid of the body without any trouble and it would be all over.

Over and done.

But too easy. Way too easy – for him.

The drive to the empty warehouse I had rented was short, deliberately so – I didn't want to run the risk of anyone seeing us, even at this hour of the night. I left him in the car while I unlocked the door then unlocked the handcuffs and pulled him out. Once inside I pushed him ahead of me, into an inner room and when there, ripped the gag from his mouth and tossed him, still bound, across the room, uncaring that he gave a sharp yelp of pain when his knees hit the dusty floor.

I switched the light on, having already made sure the shutters over the single window blocked any light to the outside.

Ramsey stared up at me. "What the hell do you think you're doing, O'Neill? Have you lost complete control of your senses?"

The appropriateness of his comment had me laughing. My whole body shook as my amusement bordered on hysteria and I struggled for the control I could feel fast leaving me.

"You don't know, do you." I let him grope his way to his feet as I stood over him. "You don't know what you've done."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, O'Neill." He dusted off his clothes, in a vain attempt to appear unconcerned, but I could see the fear in his eyes. "Let me go and we'll forget all about this."

Forget? I'd never be able to do that. Ever.

I moved even closer, backing him up against the wall. "But you see, I've done the opposite. Rather than forget, I've remembered."

His eyes flickered down and he flinched. In that moment I knew he understood and I watched as what had been fear became terror.

His next words were spoken quickly, gabbled from his mouth as he tried to back away, pressing himself into the dirty cement behind him. "Think about what you're doing." He didn't try to deny anything, didn't try to offer excuses. He knew there was no point.

"I know exactly what I'm doing. The only problem I have is that I should have done it years ago."

"O'Neill. . . "

"Shut up!" My backhanded slap jerked his head back to thump hard on the cement. He put his hand up to wipe away the thin line of blood that ran from the corner of his mouth.

"I'll see you broken for this. You won't be able to run a meeting of the local book club."

"Too. . . late." I punctuated each word with another slap. "I've already lost my command because of you, so I've got nothing to lose." He slid down the wall, but I reached down and yanked him back up by the collar. "What I don't understand is, why? Why did you risk everything, risk being caught, just for the sake of a few minutes of pleasure?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're crazy."

I'll give him credit, even faced with my rage, he didn't beg. Instead he stared me straight in the eyes and lied.

My spit landed on his cheek as I spat my words back out at him. "You remember, you bastard. I bet you remember every ass you've fucked and got off on it." I pulled him away from the wall, moving to the solitary chair in the center of the room. "Well, guess what. I remember every man I've killed. And sometimes I get off on that as well It's time I added a new memory to the collection."

His bravado had left him now and he whimpered, cowering in on himself where he sat. I looked at him, a tiny wizened shell of a human being, a man that had ruined so many lives and enjoyed himself while doing it, and I smiled, knowing that what I was about to do wouldn't lessen his evil, but would go some way towards paying for it.

I turned to the bag I had left earlier, when I had prepared everything, and took out the knives.

The smell of urine filled the air.

**********
TBC

Mislaid Plans – General Jack Year Three - Part Thirteen

You know, sometimes things just go the way you expect, and sometimes they don't. It's the times they don't that you should be watching out for.

I took the smallest knife – suitable for very delicate work – and drew a thin line down Ramsey's neck, enjoying the way the blood slowly welled from the cut, forming small beads before leisurely running down and under his collar.

He gave a sharp yelp of pain – a sound I'm not sorry to say, I enjoyed hearing.

But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough,

I bent and put the small knife down, picking up a larger one, as he started to beg.

I had a definite feeling of complacency that everything would happen the way I wanted it. Part of me knew it had been too simple, but I hadn't listened, wanting to hurt him as much as he had hurt me, if that was at all possible. I was lost in anticipation of what was to come, revelling in the evidence of his overwhelming fear. Consequently, despite all my training, despite all my experience, I wasn't prepared for all the men who suddenly crowded into the room.

There were too many of them, far too many to do more than grip the long, wicked knife and brandish it, holding it ready as I circled, keeping them at bay. Ramsey was screaming to be released, but I didn't look at him, trying to spin and turn to keep them all in sight.

But there were far too many, far too many of them.

I took two of them out, leaving them bleeding, but was soon overwhelmed and on the ground. I expected fists and boots; instead I was hauled to my feet and held tight, relatively untouched.

This wasn't good.

***********

"Hold him."

Ramsey circled me, running his hand across my chest and around my ribs, dragging his fingers down my back. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to react even though the touch of his hand had my toes curling in revulsion.

"You didn't really think a man in my position wouldn't be protected against kidnapping? That briefcase you so carefully made sure not to leave behind had an alarm and a tracking device in it. The minute I let go of the handle it was activated."

His fingers lingered on my backside, but he soon began moving again. Someone should find him a clean pair of trousers. I wrinkled my nose as he reappeared in front of me.

"Smells like something's died in here."

He stopped dead, his face emotionless. "General O'Neill is correct. A change of clothes is in order." He smiled, but his voice stayed toneless. "Strip him. Just the jeans."

"Yeah, like they'll fit you, you stunted little runt." I kicked out as much as I could, but couldn't stop them. Soon I was standing in just my boxers and Ramsey was pulling on my Levis, which, I was pleased to note, he had to roll up several inches.

He zipped the fly and came forward again, this time standing right up against me, in my face, invading my personal space. I moved my head back.

"Didn't help – still stinks. Must be you."

That got a reaction. The big grunt on my left swung me around, violently ripping my arm from the other goon's grasp and punched me hard in the stomach. Even holding me with his other hand, the blow was enough to have me coughing as I held my free arm over the spot.

His actions seemed to unleash the others and I was tossed from side to side by the fists, totally unable to do more than try and keep my feet. The first goon had let me go, but only so as to have two fists free. I could still hear Ramsey, his deep throated laugh, seeming so out of place coming from such a thin man, echoing in the empty room.

This wasn't part of the plan.

I twisted, and for a second thought I could get myself out of the situation, leaping away and towards Ramsey. If I could just get my hands on him. . . . But a sweeping sideways kick brought me down, landing me face down on the floor, my recently repaired knee taking the full force of the blow.

I couldn't help it. I curled up in agony, clutching at my leg. But they didn't stop kicking me, and the bastard continued to laugh.

**********

Waking up wasn't a pleasant experience at all. The first thing I felt, after the hard slap on the face that brought me around, was the headache – definitely up at the top of the pain scale. Then the knee. That made the head fade into insignificance.

I wrenched an eye open and looked down, which was fortunately the way my head was already hanging so I didn't have to move it, and winced at the sight of a joint that was sort of sideways and looking somewhat damaged. The thought that I wouldn't be walking on it anytime soon, if ever, fleetingly crossed my mind, before the rest of the reality of my situation sunk in.

The 'tied to a chair by the bad guys' scenario – it never got old. Hell, I'd used it myself just a short while before. Seemed the boot was on the other foot. Well, lots of feet – they were standing right there in front of me.

I pulled my head up, letting my gaze trace a line up the forest of legs, to the faces, each smiling and looking somewhat smug. One in particular seemed to be enjoying himself far too much.

Ramsey.

"Welcome back, General." He bent over me. "I apologise. My men got a little carried away. I tried to stop them, really I did."

His voice just oozed insincerity. I decided to answer in kind, a sweet little sarcastic comment already at hand, but when I opened my mouth all I managed was a moist bubbling noise.

I drew in a breath and spat, spraying blood and teeth into his face. He jumped back. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, finding gaps that felt like they were the size of the Grand Canyon. At least two teeth were gone, maybe more, one from right at the front. I groaned. All those years in action and I'd managed to avoid any damage, and here I was, only a few days after being told I was through, and this had to happen. Go figure.

I heard Ramsey giving his men orders, sending most of them away, and leaving only two standing over by the door. It seemed he felt totally secure.

Another wave of pain passed up from my knee and I realised he was right – I wasn't any sort of threat.

Footsteps had me looking up again. He was back, but this time he stayed a bit further away. Red smeared his chin where he hadn't quite wiped away my blood, and his smug expression had changed to one of anger.

"I heard you'd been given your marching orders, O'Neill. About time. Did they find out about your little visit to rehab?" I couldn't help my grunt of surprise and he responded by giving a smug smile. "You thought you'd hidden that from everyone, didn't you. The Air Force didn't look too kindly on a member of Special Ops with a substance abuse problem. Definitely a career ender if it had come out. No wonder you went outside the system for help."

I felt physically sick. "You were the one that gave me the pills. You did it to all of us. Speed before the missions and then something so we could sleep afterwards. So don't you stand there smiling like a sanctimonious bastard. If I hadn't stopped when I did I'd probably be lying in a shallow grave in the desert like the others that didn't come back."

It had been a bad time, and one I thought no one knew about but me. I had hidden my tracks as carefully as I could, knowing the consequences if my addiction had come out.

How the hell had he found out?

Ramsey was still smiling. "I expected you to slink away, not come after me after all these years. What took you so long? Finally got up the courage?"

For a moment I wondered just how much I wanted to tell him, then I decided there was no point in holding back anymore.

"If I had remembered I would have killed you the first chance I got." My cut lips pulled as I spoke, and a pain in my right cheekbone made each word feel like it was being wrenched from me. "I was unconscious, you bastard. What possible pleasure could you have gotten? How long did you take? Five minutes, if that? What was the point? You must have been so scared of being caught, yet you still took the risk."

He came closer. "Of course I took the risk, Jack." He ran his index finger down my cheek, flicking it sharply against the bone as he pulled away, making it quiver with pain. Broken – that was an injury I was familiar with. "Not that there was much risk. I had that whole base sewn up tight as a drum. If Marsden hadn't bumbled in I could have taken my time, but as it was I got what I wanted." He smiled. "You."

"Why? I don't get it. Why go to all that trouble just for a few moments with an unconscious man?"

His hand was back, this time resting on my thigh and squeezing. "Why?" It squeezed harder and I just managed to stop myself crying out. "Because you spat in my face." He took his hand from my leg and wiped it across his cheek, looking at the redness left on it. "Just like now. And no one gets away with disrespecting me. No one."

"That's it?" I raised my voice, unable to keep from shouting, thinking of Keith Marsden hidden away in hospitals for all those years. "You ruined a good man's life because I spurned your advances? You sad old bastard, you're totally pathetic."

"Now, now, General. There is no need to be insulting. Let's keep this civilised." He pulled back a fist and rammed it into my knee. "We shouldn't waste this chance to talk."

I couldn't do anything but ride out the pain, my bound hands straining against their bonds. It was like a hot poker had been stuck into my knee.

He hadn't stopped talking. "While I have you here, I was hoping you would give me a few answers to things I've been wondering about. I understand your latest command is somewhat. . ." He paused for a second, "How can I put it? Unique."

"What? Deep space radar telemetry?"

"Come now. I think we both know it's a little more than that."

I shook my head and instantly regretted it. "I don't know what you mean."

He crouched down beside me, resting against my bare legs. "The SGC, Jack." The fingers stroking again, and I tensed, expecting the pain that had followed each previous caress. "I know all about it. There's no need to be coy with me – I've been following your exploits for years."

"What?" I played the dumb card, knowing it wouldn't work.

"I don't know what you hoped to achieve by this rather ridiculous attempt at revenge, but you've played right into my hands." He stood again, using me to help push himself up, and this time I moaned as my knee took the weight. "I was worried when I heard you had lost your command, worried that any information you might give me would be out of date, but things seemed to have happily proceeded much faster than I had planned." He smiled down at me. "I have your stupidity to thank for that."

"Why. . . " I stopped, suddenly needing to cough. The motion made everything ten times worse, if that were possible, and it was several minutes before I could do any more than wheeze weakly. At last I was able to finish the question. "Why do you need me to tell you anything? You seem to be well informed."

I knew his sources had dried up since we flushed out his spy at the SGC. I wasn't naïve enough to think the doctor had been his only source of information, but it must have made it much harder for him. There was no way I was going to let him know how much was known of his actions. He was a traitor. Who knew how long he had been on the Goa'ulds' payroll.

It seemed he was as unwilling to share his motivation with me as I was to tell him what I knew. He didn't answer, just gave another one of those smarmy smiles that almost had me throwing up.

"You're not in any position to be asking questions, O'Neill – just answering them."

I said the only thing I could.

"Go to hell!"

He ignored me. "This isn't the first time you've cracked, is it, Jack? After Iraq? A Special Ops killer who had lost his mind. And then that whole sad debacle with your son. Letting him get hold of your weapon. I wonder if you realise just how close you came to being locked up and the key thrown away after that? It won't take much for me to persuade them that this time you're too dangerous to be left alone."

I shook my head, trying not to listen.

No. It wasn't the same.

"You, see, the records of the SGC aren't the only documents I've had access to. Your own file made very interesting reading, especially the parts censored from the 'official' one. For a brief moment I almost felt sorry for you when I read about your experiences as a POW." He patted me hard, on the same cheek again. "But you'll be pleased to know I got over it." He let his hand drop into my lap, gripping me hard. "Very interesting reading indeed. Tell me, Jack, did you enjoy your guards as much as you enjoyed me?"

I couldn't find the strength to speak, to react at all. I was frozen.

Frozen. Was this how it had felt all those years ago? Had I chosen not to move, not to protest?

No!

"I was unconscious." I dragged the words out.

"Is that how you prefer to remember it? Strangely, I remember differently. But you are correct in one thing – there would be no pleasure to be gained from an unconscious partner." And he gave that small knowing smile. I felt his fingers close over me again, and this time the pressure tightened until I couldn't help a whimper of pain.

God, please. The thin material of my boxers gave no protection as he dug his nails in.

Then he was off me, standing back and staring down as I panted my misery in long drawn out gasps.

"You don't need to worry." He reached out and I flinched back, unable to do anything as he pulled the front of my boxers down, exposing me completely. "I prefer my partners much younger, and. . . " He gave a contemptuous snigger. "More well endowed."

Part of me was relieved at his words, but another part was cringing, hearing the contempt and the laughter. To my horror a surge of darkness seemed to reach out and grab at me, making me give an agonised sob.

No, not now. Not in front of him.

God, no, please!

I closed my eyes as tears ran unchecked down my face, struggling to hold it together. I had to get control back.

But all I felt was despair, and all I heard was his laughter.

**********

I don't know how long we sat there, he and I, all I know was when I finally surfaced it was as if I had completely lost all shred of self respect. I just wanted out. I would do anything, anything to get away from Ramsey and the memories he caused to surface.

This wasn't the plan.

It had never been the plan.

"Look at yourself, Airman!" The voice barked out and I stiffened instinctively. "You're a disgrace to the uniform. Cover yourself up."

I lifted my head and looked around. Ramsey was still there, but not smiling now. He was standing off to one side, almost as if he was keeping his distance. Odd, considering his previous actions.

I tried to answer, only to find it almost impossible to form words with a mouth swollen and battered.

How long had I been here now? It felt like hours.

"Wilson, get over here and help General O'Neill."

Crap – now what? One of the two men remaining in the room left his post by the door and sauntered over, his heavy jowled face shining with anticipation. I didn't take my eyes off him as he approached, terror rising in my chest. He leaned down and I flinched as he repositioned my shorts, covering me up, but taking his time doing it.

One beefy hand held a crowbar and he stepped away from me again, tapping it lightly against his palm.

Ramsey's voice pulled my attention away. "I think it's time I had some of those answers from you. O'Neill. Shall we start with the defences in Antarctica?"

The sudden change in direction stunned me for a moment, my confused mind finding it too hard to cope. Then I shook my head.

"No." It was all I had the energy to say, all I had the willpower to utter. I didn't bother to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about – that time had passed.

"Would you like to rethink that answer?"

I contented myself with another shake of the head.

"Wilson. The General looks cold. Warm him up."

I barely had time to register the raising of the crowbar, before it swung down, all the man's force behind it, to connect solidly with my knee.

**********

Cold water woke me this time, and agony kept me awake.

I was still tied to the chair. And Ramsey was still watching me.

Drips ran off my chin and down my neck – a sensation that was remarkably annoying considering the way the rest of me was feeling.

"Disgraceful is too simple a word for what you are, O'Neill. Why they kept a liability like you around for so long is beyond me. Sleep your way to the top, did you?"

I had strained forward to reach him before I even thought about it, but the ropes pulled me up short. I was dimly aware of a numbness spreading right through me, its center the knee that I now refused to look at.

This wasn't the plan.

"The Antarctic defences. Tell me about them."

"No."

But I wanted to speak. I wanted to have this over. There was no point to it anymore.

"Wilson."

The goon stepped up again, swinging the crowbar. He pushed a finger into my kneecap.

I couldn't help looking down. Like some sort of out of body experience I felt the scattered bone move and then tremors coursing up my thigh. I watched dispassionately as my whole body began to shake.

"You still have one good leg, Jack. Why risk it?"

Ramsey's words had me staring wildly at him, shaking my head. He couldn't mean what I thought he did, could he? But even as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer.

Of course he could.

I shook my head, unable to stop the words that tumbled from my mouth.

"No, god, please."

It was time to stop this, before it was too late.

"Wilson." At his command, the other man raised the heavy metal rod. "And you called me pathetic." I heard the scorn as I sobbed desperately, begging.

I gave him answers to everything he wanted to know – to all his questions, even ones he didn't ask.

And at the end, he spat in my face and called me traitor.

Me.

Then he said an offhand word and the crowbar came down again. And again.

And again.

**********

I heard sobs, and they weren't mine. They were Carter's. My team had found me. It was over at last.

Done.

I opened my eyes and found them kneeling beside me.

"Don't move. An ambulance is on its way."

I summoned the energy to speak. "What took you so long?"

"We had to allow sufficient time for the sho'vlak to depart."

"He wouldn't let us do anything, Jack." Daniel glared furiously at Teal'c. "We could have stopped this." He looked ready to hit the man.

"T was following my orders, Daniel."

"That's what I don't understand, sir. Why? We had a plan. Why did you change it?" The tears still ran down Carter's face and I knew it was bad.

"It had to look good."

"It does not look good from where I am." Teal'c gestured at my legs. They must have untied me while I was unconscious, because I was lying flat on my back on the floor now.

And I didn't try to move at all.

"It was worth it."

I'm not sure who I was trying to convince – them or me.

**********

TBC

Closed Doors – General Jack Year Three - Part Fourteen

“General O’Neill?”

The knock was tentative, unsure and the voice barely carried through the solid door. It was however, enough to cause me to look up from my book. I felt a flash of annoyance for a second, before I carefully placed a bookmark between the pages of the novel, closed it and put it on my coffee table. By the time I reached my front door my face was set in a stern frown.

“Yes?” I didn’t recognise the man standing, sheltering under a large black umbrella. The umbrella wasn’t the only thing that was black. The color was carried through to practically everything about the tall figure. Black suit, black shoes, black hat, black skin. The only relief from the black was the pristine white shirt adored with a plain black tie. The whole 'Men in Black' scenario was so blatant that I was totally unsurprised by the large black car parked across the road from my gate.

“If you wouldn’t mind coming with me, sir?”

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a stare that should have sent him scurrying. Unfortunately the impact was rather lessened by having to look up at him instead of the other way around and he just gave me a somewhat embarrassed half smile.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me who the hell sent you and where you want to take me. Then we'll discuss whether or not I'll come with you and whether I need a jacket." I kept my tone even and made a show of looking at the sleek sedan, then gave him another glare. "Doesn't look like your car is wheelchair compatible. Someone obviously didn't do their homework."

He didn't give me a straight answer, just muttered an "Excuse me for a moment, sir," and hurried off down the drive. Another man, almost a clone of the first, except for his pale complexion, hopped out of the vehicle as he approached and they had a quick conversation under matching black umbrellas, which culminated in my original visitor taking a cell phone from his jacket pocket.

I couldn't hear the conversation, but judging from the expression on his face, it wasn't a pleasant one. The other man stood beside him, watching me the whole time. His posture I think was meant to be intimidating, but after so many years of being friends with Teal'c, just looked a little silly to me. Teal'c had cornered the market on intimidation.

I decided not to make it easy for them, so I turned and shut the door, and went back to my book.

It was a good five minutes before the sound of an engine wafted though the tightly closed window. I wheeled myself back up the newly installed ramp, looking out just in time to catch a glimpse of the sedan disappearing down the street.

Looked like things were finally beginning to happen.

I took my notebook from beside the phone and made a few calls.

**********

This time the knock was firm.

The conversation after the door was opened was clearly audible to me where I sat in my now accustomed place across from the fireplace.

"We would like to speak to General O'Neill."

"What about?"

"It is a private matter."

George and I exchanged looks. I gave a quick shake of my head as he began to get up, and raised my voice, interrupting.

"Let them in, Major."

Two men entered. One I recognised as the man who had stayed with the car, and the other was an older man, slightly built, but with an air of confidence that fairly yelled experience.

He was the one who spoke. "General O'Neill?" I nodded confirmation and he continued, holding out a badge. "Agent Richard Burroughs, FBI. As I was explaining to the major, I'd like to speak with you privately, sir."

"What's this about, Burroughs?" I gestured for him to come forward and he did so, the other, as yet unidentified man, staying back, surveying the room as Major Swift moved around him to stand between Hammond and myself..

Burroughs gave a pointed look at my companions.

"Anything you have to say can be said in front of these men, Agent Burroughs. Now – what is this all about?"

"I have some questions for you about General Peter Ramsey."

I heard George move in his chair, but didn't look over, keeping my attention on the FBI man. "What about Ramsey?"

He looked surprised at my obviously hostile tone, but I saw no reason to hide my loathing of the man.

"I understand you served with him?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"Would you have any knowledge of his whereabouts?"

"Right now? No. Doesn't he live in Washington? And why are you asking me? What's all this about?"

"When was the last time you saw General Ramsey, sir?"

I sat back and frowned, letting Major Swift take over.

"Why are you asking the general these questions?"

I decided to offer an explanation. "Major Swift is my lawyer, Burroughs. Perhaps you'd like to answer him?"

"Your lawyer, General? Your lawyer happens to be visiting when we arrive?" His scepticism was obvious.

General Hammond took his turn. We had our tag-team responses working perfectly. "I think we all know that isn't the case. After your men's visit this morning General O'Neill made a point of finding out just whom he was dealing with and decided to be prepared. He called myself and Major Swift."

"And you are?"

"Lieutenant General George Hammond."

Burroughs couldn't conceal his shock. He stiffened and looked like he was fighting the urge to snap off a salute. My suspicions that he was ex-military looked to be correct.

"Why don't you sit down, Agent Burroughs, and tell us exactly what you want to know and why." I waved a hand at the couch and smiled disarmingly. "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Your peoples' visit took me a little by surprise as I haven't a clue why I was being asking to accompany an FBI agent somewhere. I think you can understand my caution under the circumstances."

Burroughs gave a small nod of agreement and took a seat, but I noticed he didn't relax into it; instead he sat on the edge, still clearly ill at ease with the situation.

"Some coffee? That's if your companion wouldn't mind making it? I'm sure he can find everything he needs in the kitchen without any help."

"Sure." He nodded at the other man, who scowled back. "Fielding."

Casting a very black look at me, Fielding stalked into the kitchen and soon I heard the sound of opening cupboards – a few more than was necessary to find the makings for a few coffees, but I had nothing to hide so I didn't comment.

"Can we get back to the matter in hand?" Major Swift came over to sit beside Burroughs, who shifted uncomfortably.

He nodded. "Very well. I'll come straight to the point. General Ramsey has disappeared and General O'Neill's name was one mentioned as of possible interest in the case."

I wasn't surprised at that. It wasn't a secret that Ramsey and I weren't on the best of terms, especially after his remarks about me had been overheard at the match at Peterson.

"I assume foul play is suspected, or you wouldn't be here."

The agent nodded again at Swift's comment, but directed his next words to me. "When was the last time you saw General Ramsey, sir?"

I made a show of thinking about it, waiting a suitable length of time before answering. "A few months ago – at a shooting competition here in the Springs."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

"No."

"You're sure of that?"

"Quite sure."

Fielding reappeared at this point, dumping a tray with a dripping coffee pot and four mugs onto the table with a show of displeasure.

I smiled over at him. "You're not having one, Agent Fielding?"

"No thanks. Do you mind if I use the facilities?"

"Knock yourself out. Second on the left."

I waited until he had left before giving Burroughs a grin. "Not exactly subtle. He won't find anything, you know. There's nothing to find. I don't know anything about Ramsey's disappearance. Not that I care. The world would be a much better place if that bastard wasn't in it."

"Sir!" Swift looked positively appalled.

"Oh, come on, Major. It's obvious the FBI knows I have no love for Ramsey, otherwise they wouldn't be here. There's no point pretending."

"Even so, sir, I'd suggest you just answer Agent Burroughs's questions."

I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it again at George's warning "Jack." I nodded and accepted the coffee he held out to me.

"Perhaps we could move things along a little faster if you gave General O'Neill an idea of the timeframe involved. When was General Ramsey's disappearance noticed?"

The agent leaned forward, poured himself a coffee, and sat back, taking a sip before answering. "Last week. Monday night."

"Well then." George glanced over at me as he spoke, and I turned away, but still listened to his explanation. "General O'Neill was in the hospital last week. There is no way he could have anything to do with General Ramsey's disappearance. I suggest you look elsewhere for the culprit."

I couldn't help myself, the loathing rising again inside me. "Don't look too hard. They did everyone a favour."

"Jack – please!"

This time I did more than turn away. I put my mug down, pushed myself over to the window and looked out at the garden, losing myself in the scene, but still allowing their voices to keep intruding.

"How long was the general in the hospital?"

"Several weeks."

"What happened?"

I listened.

"We think it was a car jacking gone wrong. He doesn't remember much of the incident."

"His legs? Can he walk at all?"

"Both his kneecaps were smashed." I closed my eyes at the despair in George's voice. "It's doubtful he'll ever walk again. The damage was too extensive for replacements. So, you see – General O'Neill could have had nothing to do with your investigation."

There was a silence that lasted several minutes. I waited to see who would be the first to fill it.

"Seems a little drastic for a car jacking."

"It's purely supposition. General O'Neill recalls being forced off the road and waking up several hours later in an abandoned warehouse in a bad part of Washington. He managed to contact a member of his staff, using his cell. He's lucky to be alive."

"The police have no leads?"

"No, none."

"Could I have the name of the person he contacted?"

I held my breath.

Swift answered. "The incident has been fully investigated by both the Air Force and the civilian authorities. We can give you copies of their reports. Why don't you read them before you start rehashing the whole thing." He lowered his voice and I heard them stand. I was about to turn when George appeared at my side, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"You okay, son?"

I gave him a weak smile. "Yeah. Just peachy." I turned, about to go back to the others, but he pressed his hand down.

"Wait. Let Swift handle it."

"Burroughs wants to speak to Daniel."

"He can if he insists, but I don't see that it will be necessary." He released the pressure and moved forward to where I could see him better. "God, Jack, when I think how much you argued against having that locator chip installed. . . "

"Yeah, well. . ." I ran my hand over my face. "It still seems a bit '1984ish' to be tagged like that. Between the Asgard and my own government I feel like I can't take a crap without someone watching. Although I suppose it might as well be removed now. It's not like I'm likely to be going anywhere anymore."

He frowned. "All Doctor Jackson had to go on was your caller ID on his cell when he came back to his hotel. You hadn't left a message. Without that chip, you'd be dead. As it was, it was lucky he was in DC and was able to get to you so quickly. So, what say we leave it in for a bit longer, okay son?"

I nodded, already tired of the topic and seeing no point in arguing. "Yeah, whatever." I spun the chair, finding Swift and Burroughs had moved into the hallway, leaving George and I to our private conversation.

I rolled towards them, grimacing inwardly as they both gave me matching pitying looks.

"So what's the verdict, guys? I killed Ramsey and buried him in my backyard then cleverly snuck back to my bed in ICU? Or maybe I tackled him from my wheelchair and threw him in the hospital furnace when he came to visit me, us being such good friends and all?"

Burroughs frowned down at me sternly. "This isn't a laughing matter, sir. A man is missing and we have to assume foul play."

"And I tried to explain to you earlier – I don't care. Whoever did it deserves a medal." I know my hatred was obvious, but I didn't try to conceal it.

Swift stepped between us. "General O'Neill has answered all your questions. I suggest if there is anything you want clarified, you contact me on this number." He handed Burroughs his card. "Where is Agent Fielding?"

"Here. Sorry about that. Stomach problems." Fielding came out of the bathroom, making a show of zipping his fly.

I didn't even pretend to believe him. "Really? I hope you left everything as you found it. I wouldn't want to have to tidy up after you. Major, please show them out. I have better things to do." I spun and headed for my bedroom.

**********

Another knock, this time light, and my bedroom door opened.

"You need a hand, Jack?"

For a second I thought of refusing, but I knew George was already feeling bad enough. He had been a tower of strength over the past weeks, taking time off to stay with me through every agonising step of my recovery. When SG-1 had been put back on the offworld roster, it had been George who sat with me. He had been there when I heard the news about my knees, waited while Doctor Kasanji visited and talked me through it, supported me in my decision to not try an operation that would have little chance of success and might, at best, leave me maybe able to walk with crutches after months of physio.

He had been a true friend and one that deserved more from me than I was capable of giving.

"Thanks." I held out my arm and let him take it, swinging myself on to the bed and trying not to show the pain it caused. "Being suspected of murder is very tiring."

"Murder?"

"That's what it came down to." I watched his expression change, going from indignant to thoughtful. "If it makes it any easier, George, I swear I have no idea where Ramsey is."

"You don't need to do that, son. I don't for one moment think you had anything to do with it. Ramsey has made a lot of enemies over the years."

I nodded then found myself yawning. "Is Major Swift still here?"

"Yes. He was hoping to speak to you, but I'll tell him to come back another time."

"Thanks." I yawned again. "Will you thank him for me, please?"

"Will do, son. Is there anything else you need?"

I couldn't help my bitter reply. "Nothing that a few hours sleep and two new kneecaps won't cure."

There was a pause then George bent down and tugged my shoes off, before tucking the blankets around me. "You get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

My eyes were already closing, but I managed a few more coherent words. "You don't have to. . . "

"I know, Jack, but I'll be here anyway."

I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, my conscience completely clear.

**********

TBC

Pride, Precedents and Presents – General Jack Year Three - Part Fifteen

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, certain." I couldn't see Daniel's nod, but I knew he had not only made one, but from his voice I could tell he was smiling.

"They don't know I'm coming?"

"Not unless Teal'c told them." I made to turn, and he hurried on. "Not that I think he would. Anyway, I can't see why you're so worried."

I relaxed back into the chair again and echoed the words I'd said to Hammond weeks ago. "I don't want a fuss."

Our forward momentum stopped and Daniel came around to stand in front of me, a worried expression on his face. "You know they'll be pleased to see you. What do you expect - that they'll just wave and say 'Hi, sir. Good to see you after so long', and go back to their drinks?" He paused and gave me one of his serious looks. "You aren't going to run off, are you?"

"Not likely to do that." I gestured at my legs, but he just gave me an exasperated glare.

"You know what I mean. You have a tendency to not face things that make you uncomfortable."

"Do not."

"Do too, and you know it. You haven't talked to anyone from the SGC since before your 'accident'." I winced at the inverted commas I heard around the word. He was still so pissed about that. "You've come this far and you're not backing out now."

He strode behind me again and we were off.

"Doesn't look like I've got much choice in the matter, does it." I couldn't help the bitter snap in my voice as, once again, a decision was made for me. It seemed to have happened a lot lately. I was losing control of my own life.

Daniel obviously didn't pick up on it, or if he did, he chose to ignore me. "No, it doesn't."

We proceeded across the parking lot at a fast clip, the wind bitter at my back.

Someone must have had wheelchairs in mind when they designed the venue, because there were no steps and the door was wide enough for me to fit through. For a moment I wondered if someone had picked the place with me in mind, but the thought was pushed from my mind by the noise that assailed me as soon as I removed my jacket.

The place was packed. Daniel had told me the SGC had hired it for the night, Hank Landry deciding to use the occasion of the annual Christmas Eve party to informally introduce himself to the wives and husbands of his personnel. There were people everywhere, at the bar, sitting around tables, even dancing. Most I recognised, but some I didn't – after all it had been weeks since I had last been at the base, and a lot had changed in that time. The room certainly looked festive, and I found my spirits lifting a little as I looked around, taking it in. The ceiling was strung with tinsel, with large cut-out Santas hanging from the walls, and there was a Christmas tree in the corner that touched the high ceiling, with presents piled in a brightly colored heap at the base.

Daniel nodded at the men guarding the door, ensuring the entry of only invited guests. They both straightened up, and smiled as they saw me.

"Cooper, Thomas." I nodded in return. "How's your mother, Cooper?"

The tall SF gateroom guard gave another, wider, smile. "Good, sir. The doctors say the tumor is gone completely, but she's having some radiation treatment just to be sure."

"That's good news."

"It's good to see you, sir." He gave a nod and sketched a salute, and we continued into the room. Daniel bent to speak softly to me as we moved.

"I didn't know Cooper's mother was ill."

"Cancer. But it sounds like they caught it in time."

The volume of noise changed – it didn't diminish, just became different, and I realised Daniel and I had been spotted. I have to admit to once again wondering if I had done the right thing in agreeing to come.

"Jack!" Hank's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly across from where he was standing with Reynolds and the new guy, Mitchell. He strode over, the other two men following in his wake. When he reached me, he didn't speak for a moment, but stood in front of me, giving me a searching look as if surprised by what he saw.

"This is unexpected."

I nodded. "Yep – sort of for me too." I pointed an accusatory finger at Daniel. "Blame him."

"Well done, Doctor Jackson."

Smugness fairly oozed out of my friend's voice as he replied. "Save the thanks 'til the end of the evening – who knows what he'll get up to."

"Hey!" I couldn't help laughing a little, but decided not to continue the topic. Hank had served with me, when we were both much younger, and if anyone knew what I could get up to at a party, it was him. And no way did I want him to start reminiscing. I turned instead to the other two men.

"Colonels. How's it going? Settling in okay, Mitchell?"

"Yes, thank you, sir. Although it isn't exactly what I expected." The tall, handsome, younger man, looked down at me, seeming on the verge of a complaint and I wondered what his beef with me was. He'd walked in and taken over SG-1 when people like Reynolds and Dixon had served far longer at the SGC and had far more experience than him. Mitchell might be a good pilot, but flying a plane well didn't exactly qualify you for ground fighting on alien worlds. When I had put his name forward as a possibility for a position on an SG team, I hadn't meant it to be SG-1!

It had been the Pentagon's idea, and one I'd had no say in. Okay, I know I wasn't in charge of the SGC any longer, but finding that Carter had been reassigned to Area 51 and the new guy given command was like rubbing salt into the wounds. The fact they'd done it while I'd been stuck in hospital and unable to protest, probably said more about how they knew I would react than they realised.

True, Dixon and Reynolds wouldn't have wanted to split up their own teams to take over command of SG-1, but Mitchell's appointment was a slap in the face to them. It was just lucky Lou Ferretti had been reassigned a couple of months before. I wouldn't have liked to have been around when he found out.

And now, here Mitchell was, looking as if he was the one who had a problem.

"Can I get you a drink, sir?" Reynold's question interrupted me before I could give the snippy remark I had been about to make.

"Thanks. A mineral water."

"Let's circulate, Jack." It was Landry who took control of the chair, leaving Daniel to walk beside us, having snagged a glass of wine from a passing waiter. "I saw Teal'c over the other side of the room a while back."

Once again I didn't have any say in the matter. The fact that I wanted to stay where I was and have an argument with Colonel Mitchell obviously hadn't occurred to them.

Or maybe it had. I sat back, smiling mechanically at the greetings I was receiving from all sides, sipping the mineral water Reynolds gave me.

I was exhausted by the time we reached the back of the room, both physically and mentally. Much though I enjoyed speaking to the base personnel, their looks of curiosity mingled with barely hidden pity were wearing me down. I was bombarded on all sides by well wishers, as if I was a charity case presented to them as a Christmas present. None of them seemed to know what to say to me, even men I'd known and served with for years.

Daniel had vanished, and Teal'c was nowhere to be seen. Hank had relinquished the task of pushing me around to Walter, going off to greet late arrivals, and when Walter gave the duty to Siler, to return to his wife, I felt like I was acting the part of the potato in the children's party game.

Strangely enough, it was Mitchell who rescued me, just as I felt the desperate need to get up out of the damn chair and run, doing exactly what Daniel had predicted I would. The fact I couldn't was just an added nail in the coffin I found myself in when I woke up in hospital to be told I was crippled.

The colonel approached just as the forced cheerfulness of my conversation with a group of scientists was becoming too much for me.

"May I speak with you for a moment, sir? In private?"

"Sure, Colonel." I smiled a farewell to the group and thanked Siler as he handed me off to Mitchell.

We headed for a secluded corner of the large room. He pushed me up to one of several unoccupied tables, far enough away from the music to be able to speak properly.

I prepared myself for a confrontation, for complaints. I was taken completely aback by his first words.

"I wanted to thank you, sir, for recommending me. I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't for the support of you and the others while I was in the hospital. Knowing what we had been fighting for, and that it had been worth it, made all the difference." I tried to speak, but he hurried on, as if he had prepared what he wanted to say and was determined to finish. "And then to have you recommend me for the SGC when I felt like I'd been written off by everyone else. . .I don't think you realise how low I'd gotten at that point. I felt like, even after all my hard work to get myself back on my feet, it would all be for nothing. I was finished as a pilot and the only other option was riding a desk somewhere. I doubt I could have survived that."

His words cut through me, the parallels obvious, but where he had been a fit young man at the height of his physical fitness when cut down by injury, I was already past a field position with a desk job the only real path left for me. But, I realised, Mitchell had fought back and won. Maybe I'd judged the man too hastily. Perhaps he was the right leader for SG-1.

I was worried about Daniel. His visits lately had been hurried, and his speech had become increasingly incomprehensible as he rattled off, at a hundred miles an hour, his thoughts on the Ori threat. He might as well have been talking to himself for all the notice he took of my opinions. Without Carter and Teal'c to ground him I worried he would burn himself out. Teal'c was too involved in the convoluted political situation the Free Jaffa had got themselves into and Carter was too far away to be rushing back whenever Daniel got his panties in a twist. It was as if he was trying to take over my old role at the SGC, as if he felt Hank Landry couldn't, or wouldn't, understand what was involved. He was almost acting as if he owned the base. I had noticed it, even during his fleeting visits, and I'm sure Hank had too. I was just waiting for the general to give the archaeologist a good slapping down and a warning to remember just who the big trout was in this pond.

Perhaps Mitchell could keep Daniel in line. He seemed to be a pretty down to Earth sort of guy. Just as long as he kept a tight rein on the man, he should be okay.

I rubbed at my right knee, trying to ease some of the ache that was almost a permanent state now. Sometimes one knee was worse than the other, but there was never a time when I wasn't experiencing some degree of pain. Even my sleep was disturbed enough by it to make me wake every few hours, and I found myself almost crying in frustration. Conflict between painkillers and the anti-depressants meant I could take nothing to ease the constant throb that occasionally leapt into sharp agony.

"The cold seems to make it worse."

I looked up sharply, seeing the understanding in Mitchell's face, and remembered just how badly he had been hurt and how long his recovery had been.

"Yeah." I couldn't help the bitter comment that escaped. "It would be worth the pain if it meant walking was the result." Then I felt ashamed of having said it, as if I was reducing his achievement to something banal. "Sorry, Colonel. I've no real excuse for my bad manners."

He didn't say he understood, he didn't have to, he was probably the only person in the room that truly did. At least we both had the knowledge that our injuries had happened while we were doing something worthwhile.

"Could you tell me something, sir?"

I nodded, happy to change the subject. "Sure, if I can."

"How did you manage to keep Daniel in line all those years? The guy never stops."

"I was going to ask you how things were going, but I think you just answered my question. He's keeping you busy then?"

Mitchell turned the glass in his hand, staring into the liquid. He didn't smile at all. "You could say that. I feel like I spend an awful lot of time listening to him give the orders." He voice was serious. "I know I'm meant to be the commander of the team, but it doesn't seem like that. Even Teal'c does it – waits for Daniel to make the decisions. And I don't know what I'm meant to do to change that – how I'm meant to lead a team that treats me like the poor relation." He finally tore his gaze away from the liquid and made to stand up. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's not your problem, it's mine, and I can handle it."

I leaned forward and snagged his arm, pulling him back down. "You don't need to apologise, Mitchell. If anything you should be blaming me. I'm the one that left. Without me there, Daniel obviously feels he's the 'expert' on gate travel. You're just going to have to prove that you have as much right to lead the team as I did. He still makes a lot of mistakes, you know. You're going to have to learn to come down hard on him or he'll run rough shod over you and you'll be likely to find yourself short one archaeologist."

He nodded his agreement. "I know. Really. Trust me – I do. Yep. Sure." I don't know which of us he was trying to convince, but he had me smiling. "I can do that. Come down hard." He nodded again, then looked terrified. "Just don't ask me to come down hard on Teal'c."

I let found myself genuinely laughing for the first time this evening. "You'll be fine. Just pretend you're me."

"With all due respect, sir, I'd rather not. The grey wouldn't suit me."

I shook my finger at him. "Watch yourself, Colonel. Now let's go mingle. There's a few people I haven't talked to yet. Why should they escape?"

**********

Mitchell and I had almost done a complete circuit of the room when I finally found Teal'c – or rather, he found me. He was accompanied by Daniel, and to my surprise, Carter.

"What are you doing here?" I know it wasn't the most polite greeting, but I wasn't expecting to see her at all.

She looked a little embarrassed, as if caught out. "Daniel told me you were coming, sir, and I arranged a hop out for a few days. I was due some leave."

"So you knew about this?" I eyed my other friends sternly. "And neither of you thought to mention it?"

"You said you didn't want any 'fuss', O'Neill, so we didn't fuss. We merely went and picked Colonel Carter up from Peterson and brought her here to spend some time with her old friends and colleagues."

Carter came forward, smiling, but it was a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's good to see you looking so well, sir."

I snorted. "You mean it's good to see me out of the house, Carter, but I appreciate the sentiment. Daniel dragged me here, but it hasn't been all that bad after all, although I would have liked to spend a bit more time with my friends than I have." I gave them a mock glare. "They vanished almost as soon as I arrived. Anyone would think they were tired of my company." She still didn't smile, in fact she looked even more uncomfortable. "Is there something you want to share, Colonel?"

"I. . . " For once Carter was at a loss for words. She gave Mitchell an unsure look. "We have some news, sir – or at least Teal'c does."

"Would you excuse us, Colonel Mitchell? We have something we wish to discuss with General O'Neill in private."

Trust Teal'c to be as unsubtle as a concrete truck at a mafia meeting. Mitchell looked intrigued, but left us alone, turning back to the bar. Teal'c grabbed the wheelchair and pushed me towards the same tables I had been at before, and I soon found myself surrounded by my ex-team. For a minute, it almost seemed like old times.

Teal'c began as soon as we were settled. His face was even more impassive than usual, and I found that fact quite disturbing. "I have news. As you know I visited Dakara yesterday. A Jaffa has reported the presence of a Tau'ri in Kali's palace. Apparently this Tau'ri was a once trusted servant, but is no longer in favour. He gave Kali information about Earth's defences, which she then passed on to many of the other remaining System Lords. Kali lost much credibility after the information proved to be false. She is punishing the Tau'ri by having him repeatedly tortured and revived in a sarcophagus. His mind is already broken and his death seems inevitable, but only after much more suffering. The Jaffa High Council asked if we needed help to launch a rescue mission." He paused before continuing. "I suggested it was better the Tau'ri not be told of this person's presence on Kali's homeworld, as her defences are strong and such a rescue mission could result in much loss of life."

"Did this Jaffa give them a description of the man?" I had to know. I had to be sure.

"Indeed. He is elderly, perhaps some seventy years of age, short and thin. But I can do better than a description – a name was heard." He stopped for a second, a gleam in his eyes, and then continued, "Ramsey."

I saw Carter's face pale and her knuckles tighten on the glass she was holding. She almost looked as if she was going to bolt, and I realised Teal'c must have already given his teammates some inkling of his news while in the car on the way over.

"Having second thoughts, Colonel?"

"I…" she gulped, "It's just . . . this wasn't what we planned. We had the equipment to tape him at the warehouse. We could have gotten enough evidence to send him to prison for life."

"You know why I changed things. I explained. We all know he would have gotten off with a slap on the wrist – especially with the contacts he had. And even if he had gone to jail, how long do you think they would have held him before they paroled him on compassionate grounds because of his age? Five years? Ten maybe?"

Daniel interrupted. "That may be so, Jack, but look at what the change in plans cost. Was it worth it? Really? Was it worth your career? For Christ sake, was it worth being crippled?"

I thought of the torment I'd gone through while in Ba'al's hands. I remembered how I'd screamed, and how I'd dreaded each reawakening. How I would have done anything to end it.

And I nodded.

"Yes, it was." I turned to Carter. "And while you're thinking about it, I'd like to propose a toast – to absent friends, and those who we wish could join us to celebrate Christmas. Keith Marsden." I kept my eyes on her as she raised her glass. "All the nameless young men." I saw her expression harden. "And Janet Fraiser"

"Janet," she echoed, and nodded. Then she raised her own glass slightly in the air. "And here's to Jack O'Neill."

Teal'c and Daniel copied her movement and her words, and I felt my soul get just that tiny bit lighter.

***********

I suppose it was inevitable that there had to be speeches. And I really should have known better than stay for them. Fortunately they were relatively short and painless, even if the applause when Hank mentioned my presence were a little over the top.

Then Walter and Hank handed out the Christmas gifts. Someone had the brilliant idea of Secret Santa presents, where everyone's names were put in a hat and you drew out the person you were buying the present for. I was glad I wasn't involved – there was nothing worse than getting the name of someone you hardly knew and not having a clue what to buy them. At least the price limit put on the gifts usually meant they ended up being more amusing than personal.

The giant chocolate wrench Siler got was just the start of things. Carter was given a set of those wooden puzzle pieces that fitted together to make a shape. It was labelled 'The World's Hardest Puzzle' and whoever had given it to her had removed the instructions and the picture, and had taken it apart. She had no clue what it was meant to look like or where to begin, and her eyes lit up with eager anticipation. Teal'c received a set of Christmas CD's, probably to give everyone a break from the terrible ones he bought himself last year and apparently had insisted on playing for weeks. Daniel unwrapped a small flat parcel, and his face broke into a large grin. There were several old postcards inside dating from the 20's and 30's, all with photos of Egypt.

I was interested to see what the poor smuck who drew Hank had bought him. I pictured some young Airman's face when he pulled out the bosses' name from the hat, and smiled to myself, but whoever it was had done very well, giving him a book of inspirational quotes from famous people. He was already leafing through it as he stepped back to make room for the next gift recipient.

It took some time before the present giving was complete, with much hilarity as people tried to guess who had given which gifts. I sat at the back, looking on, pleased to be there and to see how happy everyone was, but also feeling a little left out, like a spectator where once I had been in Hank's position at the center of the activity.

I had already turned away, about to go to the bar for another mineral water, when I heard my name called and looked back, to find everyone's eyes on me.

It was Walter who had spoken. He stood right in front of the tree, looking a bit embarrassed. "Ah, we have a gift for you, General."

For me? But they hadn't known I was coming. I gave Daniel a stare and got a quick shake of his head in return. So, whatever Walter had cooked up, Daniel wasn't in on it.

I wheeled myself forward, a gap clearing for me as I went. "That's not necessary, Walter, but thank you."

He shook his head. "It isn't just from me, sir. It was Sergeant Cooper's idea, but we all agreed." He gestured around the room and I saw heads nodding and shy smiles from all directions – even Hank's and Mitchell's.

Walter gave a sudden grunt and almost took a step towards me, before throwing an annoyed look over his shoulder to Siler, who was grinning madly, his finger still extended from having poked him in the back. He thrust a small gold foil wrapped parcel forward, and I took it, wondering what it was.

"Open it." Daniel's voice spurred me to action, and I put it in my lap to tug at the tape sealing it.

It came open, revealing a bright golden star.

"It's from the tree, sir." I looked up again as Walter spoke, lifting the ornament as I did so. "From the top. We decided it was the most appropriate gift, sir, because. . . well, it's you."

I stared at him in bewilderment. It was me?

"Without it, the tree isn't complete, sir. It's what brings the rest together and makes it whole."

Oh crap.

I couldn't think what to say. I just sat there, looking stunned.

What had I possibly done to inspire such loyalty? I glanced over to Hank, worried at his reaction, but found him smiling along with the rest.

I looked back down at the gift and felt a sudden rush of emotion. It was all I could do to mutter a quiet 'thanks'.

**********

"How are you feeling, sir?" I hadn't really spoken to Hank's daughter, Caroline, now the CMO of the base, since I arrived, but I wasn't surprised when she showed up at my side a few minutes after the present giving. She pulled a chair out from one of the nearby tables and sat, bringing herself down to my level, and giving me one of those appraising looks doctors are so good at.

"I'm okay."

"Really? How's the pain?"

It was obvious she already knew the answer.

"Not good." I just managed to stop myself from rubbing my knees, knowing it would only make it worse.

She didn't say anything else, just gave a grim nod and stood. I watched as she approached her father, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to, and bringing him over.

"General O'Neill needs to be taken home."

Hank cocked his head at me. "Jack?"

I was profoundly grateful for the excuse Doctor Lam had given me. I wanted to go home. It was time. Before I lost it, here, where everyone could see.

"Could you ask Daniel to give me a ride, Hank?"

He nodded, but instead of going himself, gestured for his daughter to do so. As soon as she had gone he took the same seat she had been in.

"How are you doing, Jack?"

"Fine, Hank. I'm fine." I didn't want this conversation now.

"You know I'm only keeping your seat warm, don't you.? Until you're ready to come back."

What did he expect? A miracle? I held back the bitter laugh that threatened to erupt.

"I've sold the truck and bike. That should tell you what I think my chances of coming back are."

I had to keep reminding myself that he didn't know everything, didn't know about the medication, and didn't know about Ramsey and how he had taken my life and trodden it underfoot. Only my old team knew it all, in sordid detail, and I wished with all my heart that they didn't.

I was saved from any further introspection by Daniel's arrival, looking anxious. I made a quick goodbye to the people around me and asked Carter and Teal'c to give my best wishes to anyone I had missed. We arranged to meet up tomorrow for Christmas dinner, but I left the details to Daniel, as I sat, conscious of the growing aches in my legs.

**********

The wind hadn't died down when we left the warmth of the restaurant, if anything it had gotten worse. Snow lay in deep piles on the ground at the sides of the parking lot and a fresh fall had left the parked vehicles with a thin layer of white. Daniel pushed the chair as close to his car as possible and, with Teal'c's help, lifted me carefully in enough that I could slide myself over the seat and into position. Even just that much exertion had me groaning softly with the pain, and I sat back, my eyes shut, and let Teal'c reach across and buckle me in.

"Goodnight, O'Neill."

"Night, T, and thanks."

"You are welcome." His large hand squeezed my arm for a moment before I felt him straighten, then the door shut. There was a brief blast of frigid air as Daniel opened the driver's door and got in, then we were off.

**********

The trip home was slow and careful on the icy roads, but we made it safely, although Daniel almost took a fall getting me out of the car. He offered to come in and help me get settled, and I accepted, asking him to light the fire. I knew he planned to go back to the party so I assured him I didn't need anything else, and he soon left

I yawned as the living room began to warm up. I was exhausted, but it was a pleasant tiredness now the heat had taken some of the ache from my knees. It had been a much better night than I had expected, and I was very glad I had gone.

I took the star I'd been given and held it in my hand, smiling at the way it reflected the fire's flames. It was a small thing, but it meant more than I could ever express in words. It represented friendship, respect, and understanding. It meant I still belonged.

There was only one place it could go.

I moved myself over to the Christmas tree my friends had insisted on me having, despite my protests. It glistened with ornaments. Nestled amongst the branches, old baubles were mixed in with the new – familiar friends from many Christmases long past, each with its own special memory, rubbing shoulders with the bright shiny newcomers Teal'c, Carter and Daniel had presented me with.

I had opened the door a few days ago and found them standing on the doorstep, all looking unsure, even T, as if afraid I'd be upset or angry at the gesture. Teal'c had been holding the tree up, his large form barely hidden by the green foliage, while the others clutched shopping bags.

I found myself unusually moved by the gesture and could do nothing less than usher them in. T had the tree up in the corner before I could even shut the door. I had stopped, looking it over, while the others waited, their faces anxious.

"It needs to be turned to the right – hide that part where the branches are a bit sparse."

Teal'c complied, while his co-conspirers grinned and took their offerings from the bags.

The tree took a whole evening to decorate. Daniel found the box where I told him it was in the garage, and they unwrapped the contents, exclaiming at the delicate glass shapes cocooned within the aging newspaper. My grandparents had bought one a year for all the years of their marriage – a tradition I had continued. Sara had the ones we'd collected, I had insisted on that, wanting her to have something pleasant to remember – something that brought our son to life again if only for a brief time. I kept only one – a tattered paper Santa, colored in bright crayons with a young boy's enthusiasm and lack of consideration for keeping within the lines.

I held that Santa the whole time they worked, hanging each ornament where I indicated. Their placement was carefully considered, leaving a gap about two feet from the bottom, right in the front. When they finished, I strung the Santa's faded string over the branch and hung it exactly where my son had done, as high up as he could reach.

Then I moved back and took a look.

Damn mixed up emotions.

I beat a hasty retreat and busied myself making snacks.

And that's how I ended up with a Christmas tree in the corner of my lounge room on one of the least likely Christmases I would have thought I'd be celebrating.

It just lacked one thing. A star. The only casualty of the evening had been the beautiful star my grandfather had so carefully placed on the top of the tree every year. One of its points had snapped off, the age-brittle glass too delicate even for Daniel's careful hands. He had been devastated, but I pointed to the smaller box in the bottom of the larger one, which held the remains of years of breakages – a natural consequence of the years of moving and bumping. The star had been added to the collection, put next to the reindeer with the broken antler.

Now I had the perfect replacement.

I wheeled myself forward, reaching up.

And came up several feet short of my goal.

The bare treetop taunted me. Where once it would have been a matter of stretching a couple of inches, now it was an insurmountable obstacle.

And everything came crashing down around me as the reality of my future hit me right between the eyes.

I dropped the bright star onto the carpet.

**********

The steady beep of the phone roused me from my self-imposed stupor. I reluctantly turned from the fire and pushed myself up the short ramp to snatch the receiver from its cradle.

"O'Neill."

"Evening, Jack. I didn't wake you did I?"

It took a moment for the voice to register with me.

"No, Mister President." I took a quick glance at my watch. It was after midnight and I decided a white lie would be in order when I saw I'd been sitting there for so long. "I just got in."

"That's good. Just a minute." I could hear voices in the background then there was the sound of a door closing and a sudden silence. "Sorry about that. I'm hosting a Christmas party for the NATO ambassadors. This time of year is so hectic I hardly have time to sleep between engagements."

I mumbled something noncommittal, wishing my brain would start catching up with things.

"Anyway, Jack, I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. I arranged to have a present delivered. It should arrive any minute. I have to go. We'll catch up soon."

I barely had time to say a quick goodbye before the line went dead and I was left staring at a silent phone.

A present? It seemed a strange hour for a gift to be delivered, but I suppose if you're the President of the United States it would be a small thing to organise.

I put the receiver down and wheeled around – just as a sudden beam of bright light turned the room momentarily as bright as day.

"Greetings, O'Neill."

I just sat there as the little gray alien floated in midair in the center of my living room.

We hadn't heard from the Asgard for months – nothing, not a peep – and yet here he was, sitting under my Christmas tree, like a . . .

"President Hayes suggested I visit you, O'Neill. I approached him today with a request, and he suggested I ask you. He explained about your celebratory ritual tonight, so I waited until a suitable hour. I hope I come at a convenient time."

"It's fine." I pushed myself forward, ending up just a few inches from his hologram. "The President told you I was at a party?"

Thor inclined his head. I wondered just how in hell Hayes had even known I was going to the restaurant. Daniel sure had some explaining to do when I next saw him.

My friend's large eyes blinked. "You have a chair similar to mine, O'Neill. General Hammond told me you have been injured. Is it a healing device?"

Hammond? What was going on here?

I shook my head. "No. My legs were injured very badly and I need the wheelchair to get around."

"How long will it be necessary for you to use it?"

My throat closed up for a moment and I swallowed before forcing the words out. "Probably for the rest of my life."

He blinked again. "That is not acceptable. I came here to offer you a proposal. Both President Hayes and General Hammond suggested you would be the best person for the position. I admit that I was surprised at their willingness to lose your services here on your planet, but was very pleased. But your disability changes things."

I rolled forward, wanting nothing more than to shake him, but knowing it would be like trying to hold smoke.

"What proposal? What position?"

"I wish to extend an offer for you to become temporary Earth ambassador to the Asgard. There is much happening in our galaxy and we need someone there who can look at things with a different perspective. Your Ancient gene will also be an asset in the position. However, it will mean your injury will have to be dealt with first." He stopped and gave me a look I could only interpret as worried. "Will that be acceptable, Jack? I would be very pleased if you would accept the role."

Would it be acceptable?

But only if my legs were fixed first?

"Hell, yeah!"

I beamed at Thor and found myself humming under my breath.

'On the first day of Christmas my President gave to me, an Asgard in a fir tree.'

Something caught my eye – a tiny glimmer of light from the floor near the wheels of my wheelchair. I looked down, then back up at the hologram of my alien friend.

"Hey, you got any idea how we can get this star up on the top of that tree?"


TBC

Hope Reborn – General Jack Year Three - Part Sixteen

Instead of being a time of unusual behavior, Christmas is perhaps the only time in the year when people can obey their natural impulses and express their true sentiments without feeling self-conscious and, perhaps, foolish. Christmas, in short, is about the only chance a man has to be himself. ~Francis C. Farley

Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree. In the eyes of children, they are all 30 feet tall. ~Larry Wilde


What would we find when the door opened? That's if it did. How many times lately had I used my spare key and gone hunting through the house, to find Jack sitting motionless staring into space as if he didn't know or care where he was, or curled up on his bed, the pain obvious even though he denied it?

Sam knocked again, and gave me a concerned look.

"Give him a minute. He might be lying down." I felt the need to reassure her as my own worry grew. She nodded. We all knew how long it took the previously agile man to achieve something as simple as sitting up and getting into his wheelchair.

The door remained closed and the house silent.

Maybe I shouldn't have insisted he go to the SGC Christmas party, but he couldn't keep hiding himself away from the world forever. He had seemed to be enjoying himself, but it was difficult to tell what was going on in Jack's mind lately. One minute he was upbeat and positive, the next bowed under a crushing depression that we could do little to lift.

Had I done the right thing?

God – I shouldn't have left him alone. I should have stayed with him – made sure he was all right. How could I have gone off like that? Had another hour or so of partying been that important?

What if he...?

He'd tried it before, been so close to taking his own life. He had sworn to me that he wouldn't do that again, but there was no way I could pretend he was thinking rationally at the moment.

Months – months of feeling like I was clinging to a lifeboat while a storm raged around me, not having any idea what would happen next. Months of it...

The image of Jack lying dead washed over my mind with the force of a tsunami.

I pounded on the door, the wood reverberating with the blows.

"Jack!"

"Just a minute! Hold your horses!"

I fell back, for a split second stunned that someone I had already thought dead was yelling back at me – and sounding quite annoyed about it. Then everything slid into place and I was once again standing with my two friends waiting for the door to open.

"What is your problem? Not enough of the neighbors knew you were visiting? Wanted to give them a head's up?"

Jack's familiar face appeared as the door opened slowly, his smile belying his gruff words.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Carter?"

Jack had that 'I'm so innocent' look, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was an expression I hardly remembered – one I hadn't seen for ages, and I had to smile.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

I decided it was my turn. I pointed to the rather large bandaid adorning my friend's head and the already purpling bruise surrounding it. "That." I poked my finger towards the damaged area and got the reaction I'd expected – he flinched.

"Oh, this? Just a bump." He pushed back, retreating a couple of feet. "Come on in – you're letting out all the warm air. Oh, and merry Christmas." He seemed to throw the last comment out as an afterthought.

We moved into the hallway, shucking our coats, hats and gloves as we did so. Teal'c took them and put them into the hall closet – not asking permission. We had become so used to treating Jack's house like our own since this all started that it had become instinctive.

Jack had already disappeared towards the living room and Sam took the opportunity to mouth a quick few words at me.

"He seems cheerful enough."

I grunted an acknowledgement, not wanting to show just how off-kilter his mood had made me.

We both followed Teal'c down the hall, only to be stopped by his wide back as he came to an abrupt halt.

"What has transpired here, O'Neill?"

I took another step and stopped again – this time in surprise.

The room was filled with tree.

Not the upright, in the corner, Christmas tree that had been so neatly positioned when I had collected Jack last night, but a downed tree, its branches spilling out over the carpet as if it had been felled, decorations askew – except for one.

We all turned as one, staring at our once commander.

He grinned and pointed.

"I got the star on the top."

**********

General O'Neill was grinning and the sight made me happier than I could have imagined. The tiredness that had been an ever present companion for the past week lifted and I smiled back.

He was battered, dirty, and unshaven, but he was undefeated. For a minute I was back on one of our offworld missions, the major and the colonel sharing our triumph over the enemy.

Daniel was looking puzzled, but I could see the light of comprehension in Teal'c eyes and the tightness around his lips which I knew concealed the beginnings of an answering smile as he caught my gaze.

It was obvious when you looked at all the evidence, but only General O'Neill would have thought of it.

He had always had a rather unique way of solving problems.

I pictured his frustration at not being able to reach the top of the tree. How he must have felt when that happened...my heart went out to him, but I kept the smile foremost, not wanting him to mistake my concern for pity.

The coffee table was pulled over to where the base of the tree still was, a chair lying on its side next to it. I imagined the effort it had taken to position them and winced at the image of the general pulling himself up onto them. His legs were causing him so much pain, even though he tried to hide it. I looked for the evidence of his next move, knowing I would find it. Yes – there, concealed in the branches, circling the trunk, was a rope, its brown loop positioned halfway up, at about the height a man sitting on a chair perched on top of a coffee table could reach.

If you can't reach the top of something, what do you do?

You bring it down to your level.

Once the tree was lying on the carpet, it would have been no effort at all to carefully position the decoration at its very tip.

I wondered if he had fallen from the chair, or if one of the branches had scrapped him as the whole thing came tumbling down. It didn't matter. The achievement was what was important.

He had got the star on the top of the tree.

I turned, wiping my eyes surreptitiously with my hand.

Damn the man! I had been so angry with him last night – putting us all in the position of having to lie to protect him, of having to hide what he had done. It went against everything I tried to be, every part of my own code of honor. But I had seen what pain General Ramsey's actions had caused – not only to O'Neill and all those anonymous faces over the years, but to a woman I still considered my best friend. I let my resentment at Janet's death excuse what General O'Neill had done.

But I had still been angry.

Now that anger was submerged in a wave of affection, and part of my mind resented the fact.

Sometimes I felt I was as mixed up as the general.

How dare he – the man I saw as a rock anchoring me to reality, the man that grounded me when I let myself get carried away by the pure beauty of science – how dare he be the one to crumble.

He was the consummate soldier, my ideal of how a leader should behave.

How dare he.

At first I kept expecting these last months to be a ruse on his part – some sort of undercover operation to expose the traitors in our ranks. Then we found out about Keith Marsden. And the truth.

Even now I wondered if the general was still hiding things from us. He is a private man, and what had already been exposed had almost been enough to break him.

I thought it had. I should have known better.

He had used that anger and done what he'd seen as necessary. He had to live with the consequences now and last night had seemed content to do so, but I didn't know if I could.

Damn, but I resented being put in this position. If it were anyone else...

And therein lay the crux of the matter. I would conceal the truth, lie for him if need be, not because it was the right thing to do, but because I cared far more for this infuriating man than I should.

He was sitting, pine needles caught in his clothes, sap from the tree streaked across his face, and looking as pleased as punch.

"I think I better look at that cut, sir. It could do with a proper clean."

He nodded, but kept smiling. "Yeah, sure."

"This was a pretty stupid thing to do. You could have really hurt yourself, Jack."

I saw the momentary flash of anger in his eyes at Daniel's words, gone almost before it registered.

"Well, I didn't, did I?" I thought he was going to say more and was surprised when he turned his attention to Teal'c. "Could you both get it back up for me? Hopefully none of the decorations are broken – it came down pretty slowly. I'll be back in a minute." He gave me another blinding smile. "Won't I, Carter."

I didn't answer, merely taking the handles of the wheelchair and pushing it out of the room.

I could understand why Daniel had felt the need to say that. Of any of us he had been the most affected by what was happening to the general. There was something underlying Daniel's actions that I couldn't discover – something that scared him so much that he seemed to alternate between not wanting to let the general out of his sight and staying away from him as much as possible. Whatever it was, it terrified him. The look of panic on his face when the door hadn't been opened quickly enough today had completely thrown me. For a second I had thought Daniel had seen a ghost, he had become so pale.

I pushed the bathroom door open and guided the wheelchair through, trying to focus on the current crisis, instead of overanalysing something I probably had only imagined.

***********

I picked up the small table and placed it over to one side out of the way. Daniel Jackson wasn't moving, instead he was staring in the direction in which O'Neill and Colonel Carter had gone as if he wished to follow.

It was only after I righted the chair and moved it also to the side that he turned, looking at me as if not sure what to do. Perhaps he was reconsidering the wisdom of his remark to O'Neill.

The last thing O'Neill needed now was to be told he couldn't or shouldn't have done something. He needed to take back control of his life, and if pulling a tree down was what it took then I for one was pleased.

I bent and grasped the tree trunk, casting my eye as I did so over the numerous colourful baubles still attached by their flimsy cords to the branches. I knew O'Neill held some of these decorations in great regard, holding the history of his family as they did, so I wanted to be sure of not causing further damage.

I lifted, a little taken aback by the weight of the fir, but sure I could right it without help.

"Wait!"

I stopped, uncertain as to the reason Daniel Jackson had halted me. I was holding the tree at an unnatural angle, and I strained to prevent it from falling back to the floor. To my surprise my teammate dropped to his knees, pulling at something hooked under a bottom branch. I caught a glimpse of faded red paper.

The drawing O'Neill's son did of the minor deity Santa Claus.

Shaking hands untangled the cord and carefully flattened the bent paper, with a delicacy of touch he normally reserved for precious artefacts. I watched, concerned that if the paper tore, my friend would tear with it. He had felt O'Neill's illness more keenly than anyone. He hid it well, especially from O'Neill himself, but I could see he had almost reached breaking point. I was worried that soon there may be another victim of the sho'vlak, one O'Neill was too caught up with his own problems to see.

Together, we set the tree back on its base and Daniel Jackson had just repositioned the all important decoration when O'Neill and Colonel Carter re-entered the room, O'Neill sporting a much more professional looking bandage than he'd had previously.

He stopped in the doorway, looking up, and gave another broad smile.

"Thanks, guys. Looking good."

"Indeed." I could say no more for fear of exposing my true feelings.

O'Neill's wounded soul deserved some small piece of succour. I had seen his discomfort at the gift of the star. He was a man not given to outward signs of emotion and these last weeks had weakened him spiritually as well as in the obvious physical way. It had been explained to me that the medication he was taking left him vulnerable, uncertain, and unable to keep the control he had spent his life building up like a high wall to hide himself behind.

He did not seem to realise that years ago he had knocked down a small section of that wall and built a door through which only a few people could pass. We privileged few did not judge, for we had already seen what was hidden behind the façade.

O'Neill kept his secrets within, secrets that I understood well. He was my brother, much more so than by blood and although we rarely shared those secrets, I knew he understood as well as I.

I did not judge him, for to do so would be to judge myself.

This was something I had feared O'Neill had forgotten these past weeks.

He was no less than he had been, in fact if anything he was more than once he was, for he had faced his demons and won.

I could find no fault in that.

Looking at him now, smiling and relaxed, I wondered if he had, at last, understood the lesson that had been taught – that a truly good man cannot be defeated by anyone except himself.

I followed his gaze to the star at the top of the tree, a shining symbol of something that had been lost and was found once more.

**********

Everything was perfect – well, almost. My friends were sitting in front of the roaring fire, each with the cup of eggnog I had made, munching on the cookies Mrs O'Reilly sent over via her grandson. Teal'c had a snowman by the arm, and was delicately nibbling off the frosting. He liked to eat them that way – go figure. Personally, I liked the bells – the white and red frosting was thickest on them.

The atmosphere was relaxed – the tensions that I had sensed in each of the three people in front of me were still there, simmering below the surface, but whatever the problems were, they seemed to have put them aside for the moment. Daniel was probably obsessing about the Ori as usual, but at least he wasn't jumping whenever I moved, although he did seem a little out of sorts. For once Carter appeared to be thinking of something other than the doohickies she had to leave behind at Area 51, and Teal'c had stopped giving me piercing and meaningful looks that I couldn't for the life of me interpret.

Perhaps it would be easier to break the news to them than I had thought.

I took another mouthful of my own special batch of eggy goodness, wishing it was fortified the way the others' were.

"You appear to be more cheerful than has become normal, O'Neill. Is there some news you wish to impart."

Yes! I almost punched the air, but held myself back, knowing the sudden jerk would do nothing good to my knees.

I now had the perfect opening.

"Well...ah...yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

Perfect opening Jack. Use it. Grab it with both hands and run with it.

They were all looking at me, their expressions showing varying degrees of impatience.

"You see...I had a...last night... I... Did you know the President has far too many Christmas parties?"

"I did not, O'Neill. Nor do I see its relevance to this conversation."

Carter must have thought she had the answer.

"Have you been invited to D.C., sir?"

"That's great, Jack. You could stay with General Hammond – no, wait – his apartment has too many stairs. Never mind, we'll work something out. Maybe I should come with you – make sure, ah..." Daniel stuttered to a stop as I glared at him, my mood darkening.

"I haven't been invited to D.C. I've been asked to go much further than that."

"You intend to vacation in Australia again, O'Neill? I have heard it is very warm at this time of year. It may ease some of the pain in your legs."

"Oh for crying out loud! I'm not going to Australia, or D.C. Thor's taking me home with him."

Du'h! Now I sounded like a pet dog. I sat up straighter and wrapped what little remained of my dignity back around me again.

"I've been asked by the President to take on the role of temporary ambassador to the Asgard."

They just sat there. Daniel's eyes were blinking rapidly behind his glasses as if he was doing an unconscious imitation of Thor.

Carter leaned forward, her hand brushing against my left knee. "How long for, sir? How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. There aren't a lot of details." Then I realised I had forgotten one very vital piece of news. "The best part is – Thor says he can fix my legs." I poked my tongue through the gap where my tooth once resided. "I wonder if he can fix this too. Might as well go for a complete grease and oil change."

"That's great!" Daniel's enthusiastic voice overrode whatever the others were trying to say. He jumped to his feet, his drink slopping over the edge of the glass as he dropped it carelessly on to the table. "When are you leaving? What are you taking? Do you want help to pack?" He stood, his arms wrapped around his torso as if he was trying to keep the heat in.

I eyed him suspiciously. Call me perceptive, but something wasn't right here. He was much too anxious to see me gone.

"Maybe you should pack some personal things, sir? Who knows how long you will be gone. Would you like me to take down any of the photos?"

Carter too?

My good mood was melting away, leaving that dark void I had become so use to.

"I'm going in a day or so, and no, I don't need help packing – thanks for the offer." I rubbed my hand over my eyes in a show of tiredness that was only partially feigned. "Look, guys, can you lock up when you've finished? I think I better get to bed. I didn't get much sleep last night."

I didn't listen to their half-hearted protests as I made my way to the bedroom.

The bedroom door didn't close behind me, instead it bounced back off the large figure that must have soundlessly followed me up the hall.

"What is it, T? I really need to get some sleep."

"Allow me to assist with your ablutions, O'Neill."

Okay – that just sounded wrong. I shook my head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can still do some things for myself."

"Of that I am aware, however I shall wait and assist you into bed."

I admitted defeat, agreeing wearily. A quick trip to the bathroom and I was ready. I held my arm out to him and he took it, lifting me effortlessly and helping me to position myself under the covers.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome, O'Neill."

I waited and so did he. I knew it had been too easy.

"You were upset by Daniel Jackson's and Colonel Carter's reaction to your news."

I nodded, seeing no reason to hide the fact. "They seemed awfully anxious to see the back of me."

"Do not deceive yourself. Their pleasure was not happiness that you were leaving. It was relief."

"Relief?" That I would be gone – out of their lives? What?

He didn't answer directly. "This time has been hard on us all, O'Neill."

Yes, I knew that. And? I waited.

"Both our friends have been greatly concerned for you, especially now with your disability." He gestured towards the wheelchair he had carefully placed beside the bed for my easy access. "To know you will be healed takes a great burden from them."

Burden? Was that how they saw me? As a burden?

"And you? How do you see me?"

"You do not need to ask."

"Maybe I do."

He inclined his head. "Very well. I see a man no different than the one I have known for years. But I also see a man afraid to see how he has affected those around him, for fear the burden will be too much."

Damn cryptic comments. Teal'c was beginning to sound horribly like one of those know-it-all glowy beings. And what was it with these burdens? What did Daniel and Carter have to worry about? I was the damaged goods here, not them.

Carter wasn't even around any more. She had taken the job at Area 51 and left, without so much as a backward glance.

Except she had come back. She had come back to be with me for Christmas, and she didn't look any more rested than she had when she left. In fact she looked like crap. Like she had been worrying the whole time she was away.

As for Daniel - sure, he looked a bit frayed around the edges as well. Like he had too much on his mind. I had put it down to the Ori and his run-ins with that Vala woman. She was enough to make anyone a bit fragile.

But he had been hovering a bit more than usual – ever since... My gaze shifted to the closet. I didn't have to open it to picture my pistol, locked in its box and hidden away.

Oh hell. In all the commotion of finding out exactly what Ramsey had done to me and planning my revenge, I had forgotten.

I had forgotten what Daniel had told me – what he had remembered from his time as an ascended being. In the mixture and turmoil of my own emotions, strung out and barely coping, I hadn't realised what he must have been thinking – how close to the edge I had been.

Damn it. Suddenly the worried looks and the obsessive need to be near me took on an all too awful meaning.

I groaned, rubbing my face on the pillow.

I had been too wrapped up in my own misery to see the signs in the others. Now, as I looked at Teal'c, I could see that even he had aged far more in the past months than in all the time I'd known him. There were fine lines under his eyes where once the skin had been smooth, and he lacked that spark of energy that made him seem unstoppable.

"Get them in here, T. Now." I know the order was barked, but I didn't care. I needed to fix this.

They didn't take long to come. Standing next to my bed, I could see the telltale brightness in their eyes and the forced smiles.

"You do know we don't want you to go, right, Jack?" Daniel took a step closer as if afraid. "But if it means you will be able to walk..."

"It's worth it, I know." I nodded. "And you won't need to worry about me. Thor will keep an eye on me, make sure I don't get into any trouble."

I watched the tension fall from him at my words. It didn't need to be spelt out. There was no way Thor would let me do something stupid.

"And it isn't forever, is it?" Carter crept up on his other side. "You'll be coming back and forth – visiting?"

I nodded. I hadn't thought of that, but there was no reason I couldn't. It wasn't like I was exiled or anything.

"Sure. I'll be back. And I'll make sure I come see you. Who else would be able to tell you what those Ancient doohickies are for?"

Her face lit up and she smiled, one fat tear rolling down her cheek.

"Aw, heck, come here." I opened my arms and she fell into them, resting her head on my shoulder for a moment. I gave her a hug, my cheek brushing the top of her head, then she sat up, blushing.

"Sorry, sir."

It was Daniel who spoke. "Don't be silly, Sam." Then I had an armful of archaeologist. "Look after yourself. We'll miss you."

And he was gone – back up and standing next to Carter, his arm around her shoulder. They were both smiling – wide genuine smiles that warmed something inside of me.

Teal'c gave me a knowing look and for once the meaning was clear. He approved.

"Merry Christmas, O'Neill."

**********

TBC

Come Fly with Me – General Jack Year Three - Part Seventeen

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

"Greetings, O'Neill."

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

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

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

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

"Can you rise?"

"Give me a minute here, buddy."

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

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

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

We looked at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

Okay – not a problem. Easily solved.

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

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

"So we're alone?"

He nodded slowly.

Okay, we could do this. Think positively.

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

"It?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't seem to be worried.

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pod would fix everything.

**********

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

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

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

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

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

Then I fell.

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

"O'Neill?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cover slid shut.

**********

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

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

"I am sorry, O'Neill."

Oh, crap.

I needed to hear this.

I didn't want to hear this.

I had to hear this.

Oh, crap.

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

Wait a second.

"It did heal something?"

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

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

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

"Yes!"

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

And ended up face down and butt up.

For cryin' out loud!

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

Thor's patient voice floated down to me.

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally.

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

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

"What's up?"

The muttering dropped in level before fading into silence.

"Hey, Thor, is there a problem?"

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

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

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

But he was smiling.

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

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

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

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

"Is it all right, O'Neill?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TBC

The Sky is Falling – General Jack Year Three - Part Eighteen

"O'Neill!"

The loud cry woke me and had me twisting over in bed and out, feet on the floor, within seconds. The ship shuddered and jerked, throwing me back against the soft mattress, and I held on, trying to find my balance on way too shaky legs.

"Jack!"

Shit! I slipped and slid towards the bridge, catching myself on whatever solid surface came to hand. It felt like I was riding a bucking horse, something I was definitely not up for just yet, but I made it out the door and slammed into the main console in the middle of the room. Closing my eyes for a second, I breathed deeply, trying to control the sudden weakness that threatened to bring me to my knees, before opening them again.

Thor was half out of his command chair, struggling to right himself even as his hands raced across the concealed controls.

Another blast, this time accompanied by a flash of light so bright it blinded me, making my eyes water as I blinked to clear them. Then, across the wide viewing window, an alien craft raced into view, its weapons firing as it came.

"The shields are failing and the engines are damaged. I will attempt to land on the nearest planet."

"Who?"

"I do not know. I do not recognise the design. Our weapons are no defence against them and they have not responded to my communications."

This wasn't good, Thor's ship only had basic weaponry, but basic in Asgard terms should be enough to outgun most other races.

Then my brain kicked into gear. Emergency landing. Get moving!

Thanking my years of being prepared for anything, I grabbed my pack from where I had stored it beside the center console and slung my P-90 around my neck, then I took off, staggering over the now slopping deck to the nearest food dispenser. A couple of button stabs and I had a selection of multi-colored Asgard nutrition bars in my hand. Stuffing them into the pack, I programmed it for water and pulled out three small bottles, finding a space for them as well. Now for my needs...

I felt the heat from the flash on my back as the tiny ship gave one almighty heave and dropped out from under me.

"We're going down."

I didn't need to be told that, clinging as I was for dear life to the dispenser panel. For a moment it seemed we were completely vertical, diving nose down to a rather grisly fate, and all thoughts of surviving just flew out the window. I could do nothing but pray the end would be swift. Then, seemingly in slow motion, the nose came up, to the accompaniment of Asgard swearing, and we levelled out a little, enough for me to be able to turn.

I just managed to catch a glimpse of a vast forest when it raced up and hit us.

You know that scene in that Star Trek TNG movie where the Enterprise crashes? Picture that, but smaller – much smaller. Except being in something smaller than the Enterprise doesn't make for any less of a bump when you're a passenger. Suffice it to say that when we finally stopped careering through the trees and dropped into a rather deep valley, I was somewhat the worse for wear.

I extracted myself from the debris that had come to rest in the corner with me and stood, looking around for Thor. It didn't take long to find him. He was lying against the bulkhead next to me, obviously thrown there by the same force that had squashed me into the metal. Except he wasn't moving. In fact, he didn't look like he was going to be moving any time soon if the awkwardly bent left leg was anything to go by.

Getting to my feet, I was pleased to find I didn't seem to have sustained any injuries except some rather nasty bruises and a couple of small cuts. My pack was poking out of the pile of junk nearby, so I pulled it out first, strapping it securely to my back, and untwisted my P-90 from around my neck, settling it across my chest.

A shadow fell across the window, blocking out the sun and making the interior of Thor's ship a dark and eerily unfamiliar place. I looked up, seeing the bottom of a large spaceship, wide beams of light coming from its belly and criss-crossing in what was unmistakably a search pattern.

Crap – no more scavenging for supplies. We were so out of here.

It only took me a few steps to reach Thor, and a couple more seconds to lift his light-weight body onto my shoulder. Then I hit a snag. I took a step and almost went down, adrenaline no longer enough to compensate for my still pitifully weak legs.

I locked my knees and waited until the tremors passed. Finally, after almost a minute – a minute that felt like years – I was able to go on, climbing out of the external access and onto the dry forest floor. I was already several feet away and under the cover of the trees when I heard the hiss of the hatch closing behind me.

I sure hoped Thor had the door key.

**********

The following day saw us much deeper in the forest and hunkered down under a small outcrop of rocks at the base of the mountain we slid down when we crashed. Thor had regained consciousness, much to my relief, soon after I left the ship, so I had deposited him under a bush and gone back to check out the crash site.

The aliens that swarmed over it sure looked – well, alien. They had lanky white hair and gaunt faces, with long spindly limbs that, combined with thin, elongated fingers, made them look positively evil. I shuddered, thinking that in this case I was going to judge a book by its cover.

I only stayed long enough to be sure they hadn't managed to enter our space craft, before I made my painstakingly slow journey back to where I left Thor.

He was still looking a little dazed, his large eyes half closed. "How are you doing, buddy?"

He gestured to his frail leg, the break plainly seen beneath his thin skin. "I am in pain, O'Neill, but there is nothing to be done unless you can get me back to the medi-pod."

"Well, we've kinda struck a problem with that. You see, there's this bunch of mean looking guys all over the ship right now." I eyed his injury. "So how about I do some running repairs on your leg and then we find some place to hole up until they give up and leave?"

"Repairs?"

I nodded, at the same time reaching for the small, straight branch I had found during my walk back. "Yep. I've got some experience in these matters, although I'm usually on the receiving end." I dug the first-aid kit from my pack. "Now lie still and let Doctor O'Neill handle this."

Now, hours later, Thor was comfortably situated, asleep on a bed of leaves, with a very professional looking splint attached to his leg.

Nice for him.

I was aching in every joint and shivering from spending a night without anything except my uniform to keep me warm. I was only thankful I'd gone to bed in my BDU's that last night on the ship instead of stripping. Plus I was used to roughing it, unlike Thor. The small alien had rarely been out of a regulated environment, with the temperatures fixed and steady. The night air could have killed him if I hadn't wrapped him warmly in the spare clothes from my pack and the sleeping bag.

I was just glad I'd found this shelter before it got dark, and that it gave enough cover to light a fire without much fear of it being spotted. The meagre flames gave us some extra warmth – warmth I sorely needed.

I had barely managed to make it this far. Doing nothing for three days except pushing my sorry legs to work again had paid off, but at a price. What I wouldn't have given to have a pair of crutches with me, or even my hated wheelchair.

I looked up from the fire, finding gigantic eyes staring back into mine.

"For cryin' out loud, don't do that, you just about gave me a heart attack!" My pulse raced and, just for a second, I actually felt warm. Thor gave a small flinch and I immediately felt guilty. "Sorry, you just startled me. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. I am feeling hungry." He sat up, his broken leg seeming to not cause any problems.

"Good. That's usually a good sign." I pulled a yellow food cube from my pack and handed it to him, realising just how hungry I was myself when my mouth watered at the sight of him biting into it. I'd have to be desperate to eat one of those things. When he had finished, I passed him one of the bottles of water. "Careful, not too much. I've found a stream nearby, but I think you better stick to this stuff. I don't know how you'll react to the local water."

He nodded. "You are correct." He took another couple of small sips before carefully recapping the bottle and putting it beside him. "What is our situation?"

I picked up a stick and stirred the fire, making it flare up for a moment. "The good news is the bad guys seem to not be looking for us. I can only assume they think we're still in the ship." I glared at the glowing embers and stirring the fire again. "If I had known they wouldn't be able to get in, we could have stayed there and waited them out."

"You were not to know. Your decision was the correct one to make at the time."

"Yeah – well..."

"I did not have time to send out a distress call."

I just stared at him, my brain trying to work out the implications. "Wasn't there some sort of automatic signal when we crashed?"

"Perhaps. However, I cannot be sure it activated. Also, if it had, any rescue party would have to find which planet we were on. My ship is small and its beacon is able to broadcast for short distances only." He uncapped the bottle and took another small sip. "However, we were only one of your days away from Orilla when we were attacked. If the beacon activated rescue should be here within hours."

"If the beacon activated."

He nodded again. "Indeed."

"Is there any way to tell?"

"Not without entering the ship."

I stirred the slowly dying embers. "Then that's what we will have to do."

**********

Best laid plans and all that.

The next day I spent shivering under our single sleeping bag; Thor curled up at my side. Apparently the aching muscles hadn't just been because of how weak I was – it seemed like I had caught some alien bug thing with similar symptoms to the common cold. A really, really bad cold.

Forty-eight hours later, Thor was washing me down with tiny dabs of water as my temperature climbed through the roof and out into the stratosphere.

And there was no sign of any rescue.

**********

"Hey!" I pushed at the hot blanket against my back. "Enough already."

It stayed there, heavy and rough, making my already sweaty skin feel overheated. I gave it another shove, wondering where Thor had found it. Had he gone back to the ship? How? I prised my eyes open, blinking to clear the fog.

"Christ!" My heels scrabbled on the leafy soil as I pushed back from the creature that lay beside me, its inch long teeth close enough to my face to easily touch. "Thor! Where are you?"

Risking a quick glance away from the huge animal that now loomed over me, I searched for the Asgard, but couldn't see him anywhere. My horrified gaze was caught by the red gleaming from the dagger sharp incisors in the widely open mouth.

Had Thor been the entree? Was I the main course?

My hand was already reaching for the knife strapped to my leg and I began to pull it slowly out, my eyes fixed on the yellow ones so close to my throat.

"O'Neill. It is good to see you awake."

I didn't take my eyes from the creature, but my heartbeat slowed a little. Thor certainly didn't sound like he'd been torn to shreds and eaten. But I still unsheathed my knife and held it ready.

"There is no need to be concerned, Jack. The werga is friendly." Thor's hand came into view, pressing down on the thick grey and black brindled hair that covered the creature. "I left him here to guard you while I went for water."

The animal sat back, its eyes still fixed on mine, and I moved cautiously into a sitting position, my back against the rock wall. It looked to be something like a dog – some sort of wolfhound – but the head was larger and its eyes were more feline than canine. It wasn't until I watched the Asgard come up alongside it that I realised just how big the damned thing was. Sitting, it dwarfed Thor.

"What the hell is it? And more to the point, how do you know it's friendly?"

The Asgard limped around to pass between us, breaking the stand-off the creature and I had going. Its attention moved to Thor and its large head shifted as it watched him put down the bottles of water he carried. I saw he was using a tree branch to keep his leg from touching the ground and that the splint I had put on it was still secure.

"He is a werga. The species were once common on our homeworld, however they were thought to be extinct many years ago. To have found one here, on a planet within our own galaxy, is quite astonishing." And he did look happy, which wasn't easy for an Asgard.

"Is it some sort of dog?"

He cocked his head and considered for a moment, before answering. "No. It is not related to the canines of your world, however it shares some of the same characteristics. Early in our history the werga were used to guard and defend us. I fear the lack of need for such a creature, as our technology grew, contributed to its dying out."

The thing stood, and gave a mighty shake, before sitting again, as if listening to our conversation.

"How can you be sure it's tame?"

"It isn't, O'Neill. It is a wild creature, however," he raised a hand, forestalling my protest, "it has watched over us both for two days, while you were sick. If it had wanted to attack us it could have done so easily."

"Maybe it's just waiting for the right moment."

The dog-thing gave a wide yawn, as if deliberately displaying its teeth, then lifted a hind leg and scratched its ear.

"Great, fleas!"

Thor did that head-cocking motion of his. "Fleas?"

"Small biting parasitic insects that live on dogs then jump to humans and bite them."

"This is a werga. It is not a dog, therefore the chances of it harboring these insects is remote."

The werga lifted its foot again and scratched vigorously.

"Yeah – right." I relaxed just a little, but not much, keeping the knife handy beside me. "Look, buddy, you may trust this wagg..."

He interrupted. "Garmr."

"Your leg hurting?"

"No, O'Neill. Why do you ask?"

"You just groaned."

"No."

"Yes."

It wasn't anywhere near the same fun arguing with Thor as it was with Daniel. He just stopped and explained

"Garmr is the werga's name."

I couldn't help my next incredulous words. "You've named it!"

"Indeed I have, O'Neill. I once had a werga, many many of your years ago. My memory of the time has faded, it is so long past, but I do recall his name was Garmr. It means 'guardian'."

Thor used to have a puppy. The concept was odd, to say the least.

"Buddy, let's get practical here." I waved a hand at the werga. "It's a wild animal, and it hasn't been living here alone. There are probably others around. Even if this one seems, and I emphasise 'seems', friendly, there is no guarantee his pack will be." I had visions of wolves circling their prey. "Plus, we've got other things to worry about, like getting that rescue beacon of yours activated, because it sure as hell looks like it hasn't worked."

Thor nodded, slowly seating himself beside me, his broken leg extended. "You are correct. If the beacon had activated rescue would have arrived by now. What do you suggest we do?"

"If I find a way into the ship, can I set off the beacon, or do you need to do it?"

"It just requires a touch of a control. I can easily describe its location." He paused and looked me up and down. "But you are still weak from both your injury and your recent illness. I do not think you will be able to reach my craft and overcome any opposition."

He could be right, but I didn't know until I tried. Pushing myself up, using the rock wall at my back to help support me, I stood. My legs felt like jello and my head went from being filled with cottonwool to having a marching band take up residence.

"I feel it would be best if you rest for a few more days before attempting this, Jack."

I didn't need to look down at Thor to know he was concerned for me, but I also knew he wasn't seeing the full picture. I needed to fill him in, make him see the harsh reality of our situation.

"I haven't eaten for days. Resting isn't going to make anything better – not unless you can conjure up a steak for me. I'm only going to get weaker, so if we have any chance of doing this, it has to be now."

His huge eyes tracked to my pack, sticking out of which I could see the top of several of the brightly colored food cubes. They were untouched, despite being so temptingly placed. It looked like even this planet's version of ants wouldn't eat them, and I certainly wasn't going to try, knowing how the few I'd tasted reacted with my stomach. I saw a look of understanding cross Thor's face. I truly don't think it had occurred to him that I hadn't eaten even before I became sick. How I wished I had stashed some MRE's into the pack before I brought it on board.

"What can you tell me about the aliens who attacked the ship?"

My question brought his attention back to the task at hand, and as he answered I began to flex my muscles, trying to work some sort of fluidity back into them.

"Nothing, O'Neill. I have never seen a race such as these before. Nor have I seen a craft of the type they used."

Something was nagging at the back of my mind, something about our attackers. I ignored my protesting limbs and thought hard.

Then it came to me. The Atlantis mission had sent several photographs and videos of the Wraith back to the SGC for analysis.

Oh crap! Those guys that had been all over our crashed ship looked remarkably similar – not identical, if the glimpse I'd caught of them was correct, but very, very similar.

I slumped back down to the ground, trying to wrap my head around what I was thinking.

We were in Thor's home galaxy, Ida. Not Pegasus. I could be wrong about this – I mean, how could wraith have travelled such vast distances without hyperdrive technology?

Trouble was, I didn't think I was wrong.

"Are you sure you've never seen them before?"

"Quite sure."

"How far are we from Orilla?"

"We were approximately twenty Earth hours away. That's..."

I stopped him before he could give me the distance. It really didn't matter, except that we were too damned close. It looked like the Wraith were knocking on the Asgards' door – or at least their close relatives. And if they were anything like their cousins back in the Pegasus Galaxy, they could be cause for serious concern.

But...I took a second to watch Garmr settle onto his stomach, plainly getting comfortable, as I thought through the implications.

The Asgard were familiar with the Pegasus Galaxy. Something didn't add up.

"Thor, the Wraith – you know them? You'd recognise one of their ships?"

He nodded. "I have read the reports of your colony on Atlantis."

"The Asgard haven't had any dealings with them – met up with them at all?"

"We are aware of their activity, however they are of no interest to us, or we to them." He held out one of the bottles. "Would you like a drink, O'Neill? I refilled them from the stream and used some of your water purification tablets after the supply from my ship ran out. So far there appears to be no ill effect."

Taking the bottle gratefully I sipped at it, not realising just how thirsty I was until the first delicious drop touched the back of my throat.

"What about the humans in Pegasus? Did you know the Wraith were harvesting them for food?"

I almost didn't want to hear his answer, already knowing what it had to be. There was no way the Asgard could have been ignorant of what was happening in Pegasus.

"I am sorry to say we did know this, O'Neill. However, it has been going on for many hundreds of years."

"That doesn't make it right."

He looked away. "No, but remember that we have only been in contact with the people of your planet for a very short time, and your presence on Atlantis is even shorter. We thought it best to not interfere with the natural order of things in the Pegasus Galaxy."

"The natural order of things!" My shout had Garmr on his feet in seconds, his hackles raised. "The Wraith have been systematically killing people for generations, and you call it natural."

He turned back to face me, and I could read him well enough by now to see the genuine sorrow in his face. "We cannot protect all. We had to choose. Would you have rather we abandoned your galaxy to the Goa'uld?"

"No."

I bent my knees up and rested my head on them, suddenly weary.

I knew how thin the Asgard had been stretched, fighting the Replicators – how few of them there were even now.

But that didn't make it right.

They were my people on Atlantis. This was personal.

**********

Christ, I was so tired I could hardly stand, let-alone crawl through thick undergrowth, but the closer I got to our downed ship, the more careful I had to be not to be spotted, especially with that damned dog thing shadowing my every move. For some reason he had decided to follow me rather than watching Thor back at our camp, and he was being extremely distracting. It wasn't like he was small. His shoulder was level with my waist, and I'm not a short man.

Twice now, he had come so close that I almost fell over him when I stumbled. Admittedly, he hadn't complained when I grabbed a handful of his coat to stop myself from falling completely.

But if he hadn't been there I probably wouldn't have fallen in the first place.

Damned wagga.

At least it wasn't scratching anymore. I dragged my fingernail across my shirt sleeve, trying to relieve the itch I felt. He probably wasn't scratching because the fleas had deserted him for me.

And he was distracting me. It was hard enough to concentrate already with my thoughts skipping all over the place like insects on a hot day.

I turned over, resting on my back for a minute.

I was almost at the crash site, or at least I thought I was. Time for a rest. I shut my eyes.

And was back, locked in that dark place I never seemed to be able to leave completely – feeling his breath on my face and his hands on me. Night seemed to have fallen, because it was so black I couldn't see, and that cloying, sickly smell filled the air, and was dragged down into my lungs as I fought to breathe.

Bile rose in my throat and I struggled to push him off, but he was too strong for me.

"No! Please."

Even my pitiful cries were muffled by his heavy body and I finally gave in, sinking within myself and hiding away.

**********

I had no idea where I was.

My hands were filled with the soil I had dug up during my – nightmare, flashback, I didn't know what it was, just that I wanted more than anything to sleep and forget. But I couldn't do that. There was something I needed to do before I could truly rest.

Voices, cries, somewhere nearby. Terrible moaning cries of anguish and pain.

I lifted my head, feeling something still weighing me down as if a part of my nightmare had followed me.

Yellow eyes shone back at me as Garmr's massive head swung in my direction. His body was across my back, pinning me to the forest floor.

And the cries became real.

I held my breath, remembering where I was and what I was doing then reached around and gave the werga a quick pat, combining it with a shove, wanting to tell him to get off me, but needing to stay quiet.

He slid down to lie alongside me, his attention focused on the sounds coming from within the trees.

I edged forward, staying low, and peered around the trunk of a large fir, Garmr moving as if fixed at my elbow. Squinting slightly, I tried to make sense of the shadowy figures in front of me.

Three were pretty obviously the guys that shot us down, their dead white faces looking like corpses in the forest gloom. And judging by the appearance of the fourth man, I had been wrong in my assumption that we were alone on this planet. He was clearly a native – typical primitive human, dressed in skins and looking exactly like so many other races I had encountered over the years.

It was what was happening to him that was different.

One of the bad guys leaned forward, his lank white hair hanging around his face as if it was a veil. The native gave another one of those piercing screams that had become part of and then had brought me out of my flashback, and I realised he was struggling against the long bony hand that was pressed into his chest.

I held myself back, wanting nothing more than to leap up and run forward, gun blazing, to stop it happening, but I didn't, instead I lay there, Garmr growling softly at my side, and watched as the alien ate the man from the inside out.

And as his skin sunk about his no longer healthy body, revealing the shape of ribs and arm bones, I slunk away, knowing I should take advantage of the opportunity, but hating myself as I did so. There was no way I could take even one of those things on, let alone three, in my present condition.

The screams followed me through the trees.

At some point I got to my feet, one hand firmly clutching Garmr's strong back, and let him lead, at least while we were heading in the direction I knew we wanted. After several minutes we stopped and I saw the gleam of metal through the foliage.

We were there.

Now I just had to get inside.

There didn't seem to be much activity around the ship, just a flash of movement from the opposite side from me. Although I couldn't tell how many of the enemy were out of sight, one positive was that there wasn't a guard near my position, perhaps I thought with a shudder, it was the guard back in the forest partaking of a little light refreshments.

There wouldn't be a better time. The access door was temptingly close, seamlessly part of the ship's hull and obviously overlooked.

Now, if only I could rely on myself to get the job done and not collapse from weakness or into a quivering heap of emotional wreckage.

Doubt didn't so much a creep up on me as run straight up my leg, tackle me and bring me down.

I wasn't strong enough to do this.

I no longer trusted my own abilities – something that had never failed me before. Even at the worst of times I hadn't given up.

And now I was.

I lowered my head.

The low growl from beside me was the only warning I had that Garmr was about to move. He stood, shook himself, spraying me with dirt and leaves, and stalked forward, moving slowly but steadily through the undergrowth, his brindled coat merging with the shadows, tricking my eyes and making me blink to keep him in sight.

Opening my mouth to call him back, I shut it again, knowing I couldn't risk being heard.

Damn – he was already in the open and just standing there staring back at me with yellow eyes that seemed to reflect my own contempt for myself back at me.

They would see him.

Crap!

Getting to my feet was hard, but once I was up I moved fast enough, reaching him quickly and grabbing a handful of his rough fur.

Damned stupid thing.

The ship's hull was only a few feet away. It would be closer to reach it than to go back. I knew the exact spots I had to press. It would only take a second.

I walked, I pressed, and we were inside, all silently.

Once the door slid shut, I took a breath and glared at the idiot animal.

"You trying to get me killed?"

He just stared back at me for a moment then looked away, sitting down and giving himself another vigorous scratch.

"Don't you get fleas anywhere near my stuff."

The interior was unchanged from when we crashed four days ago, with anything loose piled up at one end. I spied a box of something that looked suspiciously like chocolate bars and dived for them, pulling one out.

Heaven! Thor had supplied his ship with Snickers Bars. If he had been there I would have kissed him.

Munching on the chocolate, I turned to the main console, clearing it of rubbish. With a sweep of my hand I activated the distress beacon and slid down to lie full length on the floor, the Snickers clutched in my hand like a talisman.

**********

Bleeeeeep!

Bleeeeeeep!

I turned to switch off my alarm clock and my hand hit metal instead.

I had fallen asleep again and something was seriously trying to attract my attention. I sat up, my body aching from lying on the hard floor and melted chocolate bar smeared across my chest.

A violet light was flashing on the console, so I stood and looked down at it, wondering what I was meant to do.

Garmr wasn't any help. He was curled into a surprisingly small ball, his nose tucked under a front leg and one eye staring up at me as if annoyed at having his nap disturbed.

Stupid animal.

I poked a finger at the light and was rewarded by a burst of Asgard language, before a screen popped up showing the Asgard I assumed was talking. He stopped, gave what appeared to be a startled look at the screen and then spoke again.

"General O'Neill? We are in orbit above the planet. Where is Commander Thor?"

I was surprised he recognised me through the grime.

I explained what had happened, with him staying silent until I had finished, then he turned to someone nearby and issued rapid orders that had my knowledge of Asgard struggling to keep up.

"We have located Commander Thor's life signs and will transport him directly to this vessel."

The relief I felt was immense - knowing Thor was safe, but I barely had time to enjoy it before he was speaking again.

"We cannot risk the ship falling into hostile hands. We will transport it to a cargo hold. Please remain where you are."

"But..." I turned to point at the werga.

"Transporting now."

I felt the brief moment of disorientation I was now so familiar with and knew it was too late to protest. With a light bump, the Asgard craft, one human, and a flea-ridden monster dog were beamed to safety.

Bet the alien dudes got a shock when the spaceship disappeared.

As the exit door hissed open, showing me several Asgard crowded around the entrance, I gave Garmr a stern look.

"Be good and try not to embarrass me. And don't give your fleas to the gray guys."

He just stared at me.

Moronic creature.

I sure hoped they had a big litter tray somewhere on this ship.

***********
TBC

The Sleeping Beast – General Jack Year Three - Part Nineteen

"Get off of me, you stupid mongrel!"

Pushing as hard as I could, I managed to move the massive body about a millimeter to the right. At this rate my foot, no – my whole leg - was going to lose all blood flow and have to be amputated.

I ignored the unwelcome presence and lifted my face up towards the ceiling from where blissfully warm water ran over me, the steady flow washing away the accumulated grime of the past several days. Whatever the Asgard put in their shower water certainly worked, even my head was feeling squeaky clean without the need for shampoo.

Crap!

Garmr stood, his bony head hitting a part of my anatomy that didn't take knocks well, and I leaned back quickly, resting on the dull gray wall of the shower and trying to breathe.

That was it! I knew this was a bad idea the minute the cubicle door had swooshed open and the werga had stalked in. Either he was taking this whole guardian thing a little too seriously or he felt the urgent desire to be clean.

Speaking of which … I peered down at the floor of the shower stall, searching for any sign of small black insects, but finding none. I just hoped that meant the fleas had been already washed away, and weren't still clinging for dear life to his coat, ready to abandon it for me as soon they could.

"Out!" I waved my hand to stop the water and again in the vicinity of the magic-eye mechanism I knew was there. The flow stopped and I waited, but instead of leaving, Garmr bent and lapped at the lingering traces of moisture on the rapidly drying floor.

Sighing, I decided I had finished anyway. There wasn't really a lot of time before we reached Orilla. The captain had said it was only a few hours away at the speed this ship could travel, and that I should just rest until we got there. He hadn't seemed at all interested in debriefing me about what had happened to us on the planet, in fact I got the distinct impression he had much more urgent matters to attend to.

I shook my head and moved slowly from the cubicle, grabbing a soft towel from a small shelf as I did so. Apparently the Asgard dried themselves with hot air, but the temperature it was set at would do little to dry my human skin. I didn't know if the pale yellow cloth was designed as a towel, but it sure did a good job substituting for one and I was soon almost dry, with only my legs still wet.

Bending at the waist, I reached down carefully, keeping my balance with one hand on the wall, and positioned the towel at my right ankle – and was hit by a sudden downpour that rivalled a tropical monsoon. I suppose it wasn't so much a downpour as a sidewayspour, but the distinction was lost on me as I held the towel in front of me in a vain attempt to stop the water reaching me.

Another long and vigorous shake and Garmr had finished. His coat was almost completely dry, with only a tiny sheen of moisture making it glisten in the harsh light of the room. I, however, was soaked again, holding a sopping cloth with nothing else to wipe myself with.

I glared at the stupid animal and walked the few steps to the door. Sure enough, one of the crew was positioned just outside, waiting to escort me once I had finished my ablutions. He looked at me, his large eyes roaming down my body, and I controlled a sudden urge to cover myself. Hell – these guys wandered around without clothes all the time, so what was so interesting about a naked human? Still – it was probably something he didn't see everyday.

"Could you get me another towel?" He looked puzzled at my use of the English word mixed in with Asgard, so I held it up, drips running off it and down my arm.

"Certainly, General O'Neill. If you would wait here?"

I nodded. Where the hell did he think I was going to go in my current state of undress?

Moving a short distance back into the bathroom, I cast Garmr another look of disgust.

"I don't know what you're so pleased about. If the captain had listened to me, you would be sitting back on that asteroid we passed an hour ago."

The Asgard had refused my request to leave the werga on any planet we came near, acting as though I had suggested they put him in a plastic bag and drown him. It seemed the rediscovery of a long thought extinct species was of far more importance to them than my desire to be rid of the annoying creature. I was stuck with him; at least until we arrived at Orilla and I could offload him on the Asgard equivalent of the pound.

"General."

Damn it – my nerves were shot! I hadn't heard the crewmember return and his sudden appearance at the door had given me an unpleasant shock. I took the proffered towel and nodded my thanks, shutting the door before finally drying myself and dressing in the clean uniform I had retrieved from my luggage.

It was time for some food. Right now I could eat a... Garmr curled his lips at me and a low growl throbbed from his throat. Damn thing could obviously read minds. I dragged my gaze away – the creature was probably all muscle and not much meat, tough as old boots.

**********

"General O'Neill. We have arrived at Orilla."

I unburied my head from the pillow and peered at the Asgard standing beside the sleeping platform. It seemed as if I had only just lain down after eating a quick and very light meal of some sort of soup the ship's medic had insisted I have.

"Already?"

The puzzled stare he gave told me this was the same crewmember who had found me the towel. Poor guy must be on punishment detail to have been given the task of looking after the human.

"The 'Typherion' remained at a steady speed throughout our journey and our time of arrival is exactly as calculated."

"Of course." I couldn't resist the tiny note of sarcasm that crept into my voice, but I was sure he hadn't picked up on it. I twisted around and sat, head hanging and knowing I had to ask, but reluctant to do so. Damned pride, it usually came before a fall, but not this time. I was going to be realistic. It was only for a short time, until I was transported to the planet's main medical center. "Could you pass me those?" I gestured at the improvised crutches the chief medic had provided me with. "And give me a hand up?"

Briefly wondering if the small alien had the strength to lift me, I pushed up, shifting my weight as quickly as possible to the crutches.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome, General O'Neill."

He waited patiently while I manoeuvred myself across the room, the desire to place too much weight on my legs warring with the need to be careful. The walk to the command center was short, but tiring – the brief rest I'd had having done little to alleviate the aches and pains. At least it seemed that I wouldn't be standing around too long as Thor stepped forward to greet me. I looked him up and down rather enviously, seeing no sign of the broken leg. I had been told the ship's equipment was more than able to handle such a simple task, but it was some relief to me to see the result for myself.

"Are you ready, O'Neill? We shall transport directly to the medical facility."

I nodded. "More than ready."

As Thor gave the officer at the transporter controls a brief gesture my gaze roamed around the room, the nagging feeling I was forgetting something twitching at the back of my mind.

**********

I felt a hard thud and fell backwards, totally unprepared for the impact. Usually the Asgard transporter beam just sparkled a little, made me feel a bit tingly, and dumped me where it wanted me. This time it seemed to have come equipped with a component that inflicted a blow on my already wobbly legs.

"What the...!" I sat up, several pairs of small hands assisting me, and stared into a mouthful of teeth and foul breath.

"Are you all right, O'Neill? Garmr unexpectedly entered the transporter at the last moment."

Giving myself a quick mental inventory, I nodded and allowed the concerned Asgard surrounding me to help me up.

"I'm okay," I answered, looking at Thor, but feeling the werga's strange eyes on me I turned to him with a glare. "Isn't there somewhere else you'd rather be – like anywhere except here?"

"Perhaps it would be best if he be taken to the research facility now, General?" An unusually dark skinned Asgard moved from the group. "We have a team of scientists anxious to begin studying him." He put a hand out as if trying to entice the werga to come with him.

The growl that erupted from Garmr's throat was like nothing I'd ever heard before. It began as a low rumble and built to a deafening crescendo of menace. His lips were curled back, exposing his long fangs with a string of thick saliva hanging from the largest. As one, the Asgard retreated several steps and, to be honest, if I hadn't been leaning heavily against the creature allowing him to support most of my weight, I would have joined them in cowering.

"Ah...I think we should delay the studying."

A sea of large bulbous heads nodded in unison at my suggestion.

There was a long uncomfortable pause, broken when Thor finally spoke. "You should commence the treatment for your injuries, O'Neill."

When no one moved I decided I needed to take things in hand.

"Okay. Where do you want me?"

A pointed look from Thor had one of the still huddled group stepping out from behind his buddies.

"This is Eriffer, the head of this facility. I will leave you in his care." Thor placed his hand on my arm in farewell. "I am sorry I cannot stay, Jack, but I must give a report to the Council on these new foes."

I nodded, understanding he had duties to perform that could not wait.

"I shall contact the SGC to inform them of your safe arrival."

I was surprised I hadn't thought to ask him to do that. It should have been my first priority – that and making sure they were told of the Wraith incursion in the Ida Galaxy. In fact, considerations of my own health could wait until I had reported also.

It was as if Thor could read my mind, or maybe he just knew me too well. He shook his head. "I shall send a full report to Earth, Jack. There is no need to delay your treatment." He turned back to the Asgard he had introduced, giving him a nod.

Eriffer gestured, careful to avoid placing his hand anywhere near Garmr.

"If you would come this way, General O'Neill?"

I hesitated for a moment, duty warring with a strange lethargy that seemed to sap my will and make me want to do nothing more than go back to sleep for a very long time. I didn't even say goodbye to Thor as I followed the doctor.

Garmr and I moved as one, my hand still firmly attached to his back – merely to prevent him from taking a chunk of Asgard for dinner – and we entered a small room containing nothing but one of those rather claustrophobic medical pod things. It didn't look anywhere near long enough for my human frame.

"You got anything a little less snug?"

"It is no different to the stasis capsule you were placed in while on board the 'Daniel Jackson'."

Yeah, but I didn't get into that one voluntarily, and when I woke up I'd jumped out of it pretty damn quickly. My mind went back to the nightmare I'd had in the pod on Thor's ship a few days ago, and I concealed a shiver. It seemed I had developed an issue with small confined, coffin-like spaces – especially when I was being 'fixed', be it by the Goa'uld or the Asgard.

But I wanted to be fixed, didn't I?

Yes, no doubt about it, I did.

The pod floated down to a level that made it easy for me to get in and I really didn't have any choice in the matter. Taking a deep breath, I tried to look as if the whole thing was a piece of cake and wasn't freaking me out completely. Then, releasing my hold on Garmr's fur, I swung my legs up and lay down.

The lid closed over my face.

**********

It seemed only a few minutes before the pod opened again. I hadn't even had time for the panic to build to more than a desire for fresh air. Several Asgard faces looked down at me, but they immediately stepped back to give me room to sit.

The still present heaviness in my legs was the first inkling I had that something wasn't right. I didn't say anything – I'm not sure why, maybe somewhere deep inside I was scared of the answer I might get. Instead, I reached out and accepted the help I was offered to exit the pod, and was soon standing, towering over my companions, with my furry living crutch holding me up once more.

"Brymer shall show you to your accommodation, General O'Neill. We should have the results of these first scans within a few of your hours. In the meantime it would be best if you rest and take some nourishment."

I was already being led away before I had the presence of mind to ask some questions. "Scans?"

The Asgard who had spoken inclined his head. "We will need to do several tests before we determine the best course of action to treat the chemical imbalance present. It is not a simple task."

"What about...?" I waved a hand at my legs, but realised he didn't have any idea what I was referring to, so I spelt it out. "My legs - what about them?"

He was turning back to his equipment and tossed his answer back over his shoulder at me as if it was of no importance.

"Your physical injuries are now completely cured. You may experience some residual weakness, however it should not last long, especially if you rest then follow the exercise regime I suggest. Brymer will go over those details with you."

Cured.

Fixed.

Back to normal.

I took a step.

Back to normal – like hell! I could barely move one foot in front of the other. This was some sort of trick. They hadn't fixed me at all.

I tried to turn back, to argue, to complain, damn it – anger began to rise in me, unreasoning, passionate, fiery anger that made me want to grab the thin gray neck and twist.

Instead of turning I meekly followed the small Asgard to a reasonably large, but plainly furnished room just down the hall from the laboratory. Brymer spent several minutes telling me what I assumed was important information, none of which I listened to, just standing there staring without comprehension, and when the door shut behind him, I twisted, added a second hand to the one already tightly entwined in Garmr's coat, and sank on my knees to the floor, my head resting on his solid back as despair washed over me.

**********

Throwing him across the room, I followed, my hands reaching for him, while the darkness cleared from my vision and the steady throb of sound held me.

This time I had been ready. This time I wasn't the victim, I was the aggressor.

The sound grew louder, leaving only small gaps through which I heard him crying for mercy, begging me to stop.

I ignored him, pressing against his skinny body until I was enveloped in light and my blood boiled in my veins.

**********

The first thing I saw when I woke was Thor's anxious face, his large eyes luminescent in the subdued lighting.

"Hey, buddy." My words came out in a raspy whisper, but I persevered. "What's happening?"

It seemed to me that he was reluctant to answer, finally leaning a little closer, and I realised I was on some sort of bed, unable to move. I shifted my eyes, trying to see what was holding me, but not finding anything.

"Thor?"

"Do you know where you are, Jack?"

It seemed an odd question. "Sure. Orilla. They were doing some tests."

There was a sound from the side and the Asgard doctor, Eriffer, came into view. "You had a psychotic episode and attacked Brymer when he came to wake you. I needed to be sure you were aware of your surroundings before I removed the restraints." He did something I couldn't see and the slight pressure enveloping my body disappeared.

I lifted my left hand, but apart from that stayed where I was, unmoving on the bed.

I had attacked someone. An Asgard. What harm could I do to one of their fragile bodies?

What had I done?

"It is all right, Jack." Thor's hand came out and took mine. "Brymer is fine. He was slightly injured but is fully recovered. It is you we are worried about."

I could understand that. Turning away, I stared at the gray, featureless wall. I was dangerous, a risk not worth taking. I bet they were regretting asking me to be an ambassador. I'd made a great start at that career, hadn't I.

"I wish to speak to General O'Neill alone."

I turned my head at that, surprised Thor would take the risk of being alone with me. He held my gaze as Eriffer left the room, not speaking until he was gone.

His opening words stunned me. "I must apologise, Jack. I have failed you."

"Failed me? How?"

"I allowed you to think your illness could be cured easily. I had no idea the problem would be difficult to address and in my arrogance I have caused you distress."

"No. None of this is your fault."

How could he think that? My smashed knees were fixed, weren't they? I could walk again – something I never thought would happen. The rest was up to me. It was my problem, not Thor's – not anyone else's. It was my weakness of spirit, my giving up, my losing... "It's my fault."

"Jack."

I realized Thor had been speaking for a while and I made an effort to concentrate on his words.

"Jack, it is the illness you are experiencing that is causing you to think like this. The doctors have explained to you already that your body chemistry has been disrupted. Once the balance has been restored you will be back to normal – back to the man you were before this happened."

I flinched. He didn't know what he was saying. Back to the man I was before. Did I want that?

"What did I do? To Brymer?"

"You were having a nightmare. He attempted to wake you."

Just like Carter.

"He was able to alert the medics, only sustaining bruising to his arms and chest, but unfortunately they were unable to approach because of Garmr and had to stun you both."

"Garmr?" I looked around, already so used to the presence of the werga that I expected to see him sitting somewhere nearby.

"He prevented Brymer's rescue."

I started to worry. Memories of the effects of whatever they had used to stun me surfaced and I imagined what it must have felt like for the werga.

"Where is he? Is he okay?"

Thor squeezed my hand slightly. "Do not worry. He is still sedated and we are using this opportunity to study him as we intended when he first arrived on Orilla."

They wouldn't hurt him, would they? These were the Asgard – the good guys. Right?

Footsteps sounded, bare feet slapping on the floor.

"I am sorry, Commander Thor, but I have been monitoring the general's life signs and they have elevated dramatically." A light flashed in my eyes as Eriffer pointed some sort of instrument at me that looked remarkably like a penlight. "He should not be placed under more stress."

"Then wake Garmr up and get him back here!" I don't know who was more stunned, them or me. Where that hell had that come from? It wasn't like I was that concerned about the aggravating creature. "Look, I didn't bring the werga here to be a guinea pig."

The two gray guys exchanged confused looks and I took a deep breath. "He's not a just an object for you to study, he's..." Actually, I didn't know what he was, I just knew I felt as bad and worried about this as I had when our scientists wanted to get their hands on Teal'c.

"He is dangerous. It may be better if we returned him to his planet without delay."

I pushed myself up, angrily turning my attention to Thor. "He isn't dangerous. He's fine. Anyway, you said yourself that he's a wild animal. Personally, I think he's been pretty well behaved considering." I paused in an effort to collect myself. "And he doesn't want to go back."

If Asgard had eyebrows they would have raised them.

Oh, crap! I'd gone completely wacko.

Eriffer stepped forward again, this time putting a hand on my chest as if to push me back down. "You should not upset yourself this way. Your serotonin is already at a dangerous level."

"I shall bring Garmr here, O'Neill. Please listen to Eriffer while I am gone." Thor hurried from the room without another word, leaving me sitting on the bed, my head pounding in time with the pulse in my forehead.

"Please lie down, General, while I explain what we have found." I did so, which seemed to cause him an extraordinary amount of relief. "The test results have enabled us to develop a plan of treatment."

"So you can stop this – this..." I stopped, unsure how to explain the totally fucked up emotions I had experienced over the last months.

"We can, however we need a sample of the medication you were prescribed by your Earth physician and which Commander Thor tells me you discarded while on his ship. The amount remaining in your body is not sufficient to extrapolate the effects it has had. We thought to contact the SGC and obtain some, however Commander Thor suggested we wait until I had spoken to you first."

No one at the SGC knew about my problem expect Daniel and Teal'c and I couldn't be sure they would be on base. Did I want to trust anyone else with the knowledge?

The short answer was – no way!

To contact anyone other than through the Stargate would mean a trip to my home galaxy in an Asgard ship – something I wasn't willing to do so soon after the last disastrous voyage. That left only one way to handle this. I would have to go through the gate myself. That way I could keep the whole thing as low-key as possible, and I had a perfectly logical explanation for my sudden return. The Wraith.

"How soon do you need the sample? I would prefer to go get some myself."

He took a small object from a nearby table and peered into it, then answered. "It would be preferable if your physical condition was improved before you travel through the wormhole. We can begin treating some of your symptoms while you regain weight and start the exercise to restore strength in your legs. Brymer would have explained some of this to you."

I nodded, not wanting to admit just how confused I had been when I first left the medical pod. He seemed to take that as agreement.

"Very well. I see no reason why you shouldn't return to your quarters as soon as I have administered the first medication, if that is agreeable to you?"

I nodded and he took a remarkably evil looking metallic needle from the same table and placed it against the side of my neck. The shot was quick – a sudden jolt and a burst of warmth throughout my body. My eyes were already closing when he spoke again.

"I shall have you taken to your room now, General. Do not worry, the sleep will do you good."

My last thought was that I hoped they set an alarm clock to wake me up this time.

**********

Six days later I was standing in front of the Orilla Stargate, waiting for the wormhole to form, Garmr at my side.

"Now, last time I asked you not to embarrass me look what you went and did. And we haven't fully discussed the issue of fleas, have we." The surface of the large circle burst into brilliant blue and I tightened my grip on his coat. "What about a black leather collar with spikes?"

His snarl echoed through the vortex as we stepped forward.

TBC

Uncertainty, Upheavals, and Bites – General Jack Year Three - Part Twenty

I hadn't realized how long it had been since I was last at the SGC until I stepped out of the wormhole and stood at the top of the ramp, looked out into the Gate Room, and saw so many unknown faces.

The weaponry pointed towards me could have taken out a small nation. I felt like putting my hands in the air and saying "I surrender" in a very loud voice. Garmr's growl was the only sound other than the nervous shuffling of several boot clad SF feet.

"Stand down!" Daniel came hurrying through the doors, yelling orders - orders which were immediately followed.

Much though I appreciated the easing of tension, I couldn't help raising an eyebrow as I looked up at the Control Room. Hank Landry was nowhere to be seen; in fact there was no senior officer in sight, only a very surprised looking sergeant and a couple of techs.

"Jack, I didn't expect to see you here."

"What, you're not getting your memos?" I saw doubt creep into his face and I smiled to myself, not bothering to tell him I had deliberately not announced my unscheduled return, wanting to keep it as low-key as possible.

There was a pause as if he expected me to explain my presence, but I just waited for a moment before moving towards the door. "Where's Hank?"

"He's in Washington."

We were out in the corridor and waiting for the elevator before the silence was broken again.

"So, how come you're back?"

I answered his question with one of my own. "Reynolds?"

He knew what I meant, shaking his head in reply. "Off duty."

"So who's in charge? Dixon?"

The door of the elevator opened as he gave me a slight smile. "No, I suppose I am." His expression became vague and he paused for a second before saying, "Or maybe Mitchell."

Now, don't get me wrong – I would trust Daniel with my life, in fact I frequently had, but no way was he qualified or remotely capable of running a military base. I didn't know what was going on, but I sure as hell didn't like it one little bit.

We all crowded into the car, Garmr pressing on my leg as he seemed to do all the time, and I pushed the button to take us to the infirmary level. I may have been away for a while, but I still remembered correct procedure. I had to be cleared before I could go off the base.

A loud sneeze reverberated in the confined space.

"Oh, I forgot." I kept my eyes front and center, staring straight at the door. "Daniel, meet Garmr."

**********

Doctor Lam was as startled by my sudden appearance as the rest of the personnel we passed on the way to the infirmary. Or maybe it was the animal stalking along beside me. I had gotten so used to Garmr that I forgotten just how imposing he could be when you didn't know him.

Once her initial examination was completed and I was deemed to be no immediate threat to the security of Earth, she concentrated her attention on my knees, even going to the extent of taking numerous x-rays. She seemed to take genuine pleasure in my recovery and I found my irritation lifting as I answered questions about the crash and my subsequent recovery. It seemed the Asgard had been rather sparing in the details of my adventure with Thor, or at least as far as Doctor Lam knew.

She even attempted to examine Garmr, but although he allowed her to run a hand down his back that was as far as it went. For a few minutes it looked like she would insist on him being locked up for the duration of my visit, but when I pointed out that there was no way I would risk taking him off the Mountain she relented, agreeing to allow him to accompany me. I felt strangely relieved, given how much easier it would have been for me to leave him in a holding cell.

Daniel was waiting impatiently outside the curtain when I pulled it aside. "How about we go to the Briefing Room and you tell me what's been happening?"

"Hank back yet?" He shook his head. "Then let's not. I feel like a decent coffee. We can talk in the cafeteria"

"I thought you wanted decent coffee."

It was such a simple thing, but the joke brought me totally out of my foul mood with him and I laughed, finally glad to be back. By the time we found a table and my coffee was joined by a doughnut our conversation had reverted to its usual easy banter, so comfortable after years of serving in the same team, albeit interspersed with some fairly dramatic sneezes. We got past how pleased Daniel was to see me back on my feet without too much obvious emotion or manly hugs and I managed to avoid too many questions by telling him how Garmr and I hooked up.

"This is fascinating. You know, Garmr was the name of the beast that was tied at the entrance to Niflheimr, the land of the dead ruled by Hel."

I was too busy trying to fend off the massive paw that was trying to liberate my doughnut from its plate to do more than nod distractedly. "Yeah, I looked it up."

"You looked it up? When?"

"On Orilla. Stop that!"

"Ah, sorry."

I looked up to see what he was apologizing for, found nothing, and turned back in time to watch my plate slide off the table.

"Damn it! I told you to stop it." Bending down I grabbed at one side of the doughnut as Garmr took hold of the other. "That's mine, you stupid mutt."

I pulled, he pulled harder, and I began to topple forward, only just managing to stop myself from falling because the doughnut tore, leaving me with a handful of soggy mush.

It tasted so damned good that I was seriously eyeing the remaining half, still clenched in the werga's teeth, at least until he gave me an evil stare and growled.

"Ewwwww!"

"What?" This time when I looked up I kept a little more of my attention on the now happily munching creature, but I wanted to see what Daniel was reacting to.

"You ate it!"

I don't think I can remember a time when I'd seen him more obviously grossed out, except maybe the incident with the gray muddy sludge and the chieftain's toenails on that planet three or four years ago. He looked positively green.

"What?" Again I looked around, giving my fingers a quick lick as I did so. Didn't want any sugar left on them – Garmr would probably take my fingers off getting at it.

"You ate the doughnut. After he..." and he sneezed then pointed in what I considered an overly dramatic way at the now quietly sitting animal, "had it in his mouth."

I had, hadn't I. And I didn't think I was going to die of weird-ass alien monster germs.

"We were hungry...speaking of which, I need to get something a bit more substantial for Garmr to eat before he goes to find it himself." I looked pointedly over towards a nearby table of young Airmen. "And we wouldn't want that."

Garmr stood and stared directly at the group. All four of them pushed their chairs back and the one sitting closest stood and backed away.

Yeap – time to get the beast fed.

A perusal of the kitchen had Garmr slavering and the cook dancing around us like his pants were on fire. I really couldn't see what his problem was – six large steaks and a couple of trays of assorted pastries weren't going to even be missed. I warned him we'd be back in the evening and ordered, after a bit of thought, some rice pudding and a dozen hamburgers with the lot. I wanted to get Garmr used to as varied a diet as possible before we returned to Orilla. I didn't think the Asgard were big on meaty snacks.

**********

"What did I tell you about behaving yourself? Were you listening at all?"

Garmr ignored me, his large tongue licking at a place I not only couldn't reach on my own body but sure as hell didn't want to lick. I was only glad we were in the privacy of a VIP suite and not out where he could embarrass me in public.

I had managed a short nap and a shower, and was now feeling much fresher, despite a still lingering weariness, but I was much more focused now. There were things I needed to do.

If Hank Landry wasn't available I needed to brief the most appropriate person about the Wraith situation, and that meant General Hammond. I also needed to get to my house and find some of the medication. A sense of urgency was growing in me, as if there was something pulling me back to the Ida Galaxy.

A loud whine and scratching at the door reminded me of another urgent matter. The SGC wasn't any more equipped with litter trays than the Asgard space ship – and that had ended particularly badly.

We were heading for the elevator when a blinding flash of inspiration hit me. Instead of pushing the button that would take us to level 11, I hit another and went down instead. Sure enough, Walter was where I expected him to be – in Landry's office shuffling through his out-tray.

His face, when I told him what I wanted, was priceless.

"Take him for a walk, sir?" I swear his legs were shaking. "But..."

"Not exactly a walk, Walter – he doesn't need to walk, if you know what I mean." I gave him a wink and he gave me a sick looking smile in return. "Just take him up top to where the guard dogs exercise and let him do his stuff. I have to make a few calls so I'll be here when you get back."

"What about a lead, sir? He doesn't have a lead. I could get one from Security and by that time you would probably be finished with the calls and could take him up yourself?"

Anyone would think he wasn't looking forward to the chance of getting out in the fresh air.

I shook my head. "No, I appreciate the gesture, Walter, but I may be a while. You head up and I'll join you if I finish before you're back."

"But how will I get him to go with me without a lead?"

I looked at Garmr, looked at the short man, and couldn't help smiling. "I don't think a lead would be of much use even if you did have one. Don't worry, I think he's as anxious to get outside as you are to stay indoors."

If wergas could cross their legs I swear Garmr would have been doing just that. I walked over to him and curled my fingers into his coat.

"Go with Walter, and try to, just this once, please be good, okay?"

He responded by shaking off my hand and drawing his paw down the office door, leaving a long deep scratch in its wake. As soon as Walter, with a last pleading look in my direction, opened the door, Garmr was off, heading straight for the elevators, the Master Sergeant hurrying to keep up with his long-legged stride.

I made sure the door was shut before sitting down in what was now Hank's chair to make the call. It seemed very odd to be sitting on this side of the desk and find nothing of mine on its surface. There weren't many personal touches except a couple of photos of people I didn't recognise and a desk set of pens and various associated bits and pieces that looked to be the sort of thing you got as a farewell gift when you left a previous command.

I called Hammond's direct line and listened to the dial tone, tapping one of the pens idly against the edge of desk as I waited for what seemed an extraordinarily long time, but was probably less than a minute.

It wasn't until George's Texas twang sounded down the line that I realized just how much I had missed him.

"Hey, George."

There was silence, then "Jack? Where are you?"

"In Landry's office."

This time there was no gap before he spoke. "What's wrong? What are you doing back so soon? Are you all right?"

Smiling at the concern showing in his voice, I reassured him. "I'm fine, sir. More than fine actually, if you catch my drift."

"Your knees?"

"Good as new. Better in fact. I think I'll have to retire myself as the official SGC rainfall predictor."

I could hear the grin coming down the line. "That's great, son. What about the other problem?"

I knew exactly what he meant and although would have liked to tell him what he wanted to hear, I couldn't lie. "That seems to be a bit harder. In fact that's one of the reasons I'm back so soon. I need to get a sample of the medication to take back with me for analysis."

"But they can do something?"

"Looks like it." I tried to sound a little more upbeat than I was feeling right now, but his next question showed something must have alerted him to the fact I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at being back.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

"You got my report on the incident on the way to Orilla?"

"Yes."

"They were Wraith. In the Ida Galaxy. How the hell is that possible."

"According to the Asgard they can't have been. The ship which attacked Commander Thor's vessel wasn't familiar to them and it appears they have been aware of the Wraith presence in the Pegasus Galaxy for many years prior to our arriving there."

"Yes, and that's another thing I don't..." I stopped myself, not wanting to get off track. "They were Wraith, sir. I saw them suck the life from someone just the way the reports from Atlantis describe."

"Not exactly, Jack. From what you said the victim didn't..."

What? Dry up and look like he'd aged a hundred years in a few seconds?

I interrupted. "The result was the same. It was obvious they were feeding from him – taking his life force – call it what you will the result was the same – he died."

"But it wasn't the same. Plus the aliens you saw didn't look the same."

I was beginning to get seriously annoyed. "Okay, they had whiter hair and skin. Maybe they hadn't been out in the sun lately, maybe they were albino." I took a breath. "Look, George, I'm not saying they're identical to the Pegasus Wraith, just that they seemed related, and even a slight similarity is enough to seriously worry me. If they can get to Ida, what's to stop them coming to visit Earth's neighbourhood, especially given the contact the Wraith have had with our team in Atlantis already."

"The Asgard disagree. They say the aliens weren't Wraith and that they will investigate the incident fully – that there is no reason for Earth to be concerned." He raised his voice a little. "And we have to agree."

"We?'

"Yes, Jack, we. A committee has gone over your report and sees no cause to investigate the issue further."

"A committee? Since when do committees make this sort of decision?"

I was sure I heard a sigh. "There's the funding issue, Jack. We can't afford to be wasting resources on wild goose chases, especially ones our allies are convinced are not important."

The knot in my stomach became even harder.

"George, what's going on?"

"Things have changed in the last few months, son. Questions have been raised by the International Committee about the US military's role in the program."

"Again? Sir, we've been through this before..."

"Not like this time." There was a finality in his voice that gave me more cause for concern than anything he had said previously. "And, Jack, they're questioning your suitability for the role of ambassador."

Shit.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning keep your head down and get back to Orilla as quickly as possible. If they knew you were on Earth..."

"They've got no reason to relieve me of the post!" But the silence in reply was ominous. "Have they?"

Hammond lowered his voice as if leaning into the phone. "I'm sorry Jack, but they have seen Doctor Kasanji's report – all of it."

I froze, my mind spinning. "But...how...what..."

"I received a call from the doctor. He'd been ordered to take all your medical records to Washington. He protested but couldn't do anything. They know everything – the flashbacks, the depression, everything. Only the fact you were already on your way to Orilla stopped them from recommending immediate medical retirement – it was decided that, seeing Thor had agreed to your appointment, it would cause too much embarrassment to recall you. How long have you been back?"

"Only about three hours."

"Good. It was lucky General Landry was called to Washington. Did the Duty Officer report your arrival?"

"That's another thing – I haven't seen hide nor hair of the DO. As far as I can work out Daniel's in charge."

There was another brief pause as if George was mulling over what I had just said. "Doctor Jackson has been given a lot more responsibility since you left the SGC, Jack."

It was what he didn't say that was significant. They were questioning the military presence again, and Daniel wasn't military. I didn't know who had thought of it – the Air Force or the International Committee, but having Daniel take a more hands-on role could be to either take some of the pressure off or be the first steps in another move to make the SGC a civilian run operation.

Hammond's words cut through my thoughts. "Jack, don't leave the base. Send someone you trust to get the pills from your house and get back through the Gate asap. If they know you're here they'll order you to Washington and have someone else sent back to Orilla in your place, probably with some story about you being unfit for the position."

And they wouldn't be too far wrong, would they? It was only Thor's intervention that had given me this chance. Then I realized – if I didn't get back I would never be rid of this illness and I'd spend the rest of my life relying on drugs to keep a tentative grip on some form of sanity.

"I understand. I'll be out of here within the hour."

"Son..." I found myself holding the receiver a little tighter as I listened. "I'm sorry. This isn't much of a welcome home."

Home. It suddenly didn't feel at all like home. Instead the SGC and Earth itself had become enemy territory – somewhere to flee.

**********

George had told me to find someone I trusted to get the pills from my house, but who? Daniel would have been the obvious choice, but now I wasn't sure of anything any more. Teal'c was on Chulak and Carter was in Nevada. I couldn't even make the call I had intended to her, couldn't even exchange a few words without fear of someone reporting my presence. As it was, the fact I was back had more than likely already spread. I felt like a criminal on the run. I needed to get out of here.

"Hey, Jack, you got a minute? I wanted to go over this report you sent..."

An hour ago I would have jumped at the chance to discuss the Wraith with Daniel, but now...

I stood, hurrying him to the side of the room away from the now open door. He looked somewhat startled as I backed him against the far wall and spoke rapidly. "I need you to go to my house..."

"I can't..."

"You have to. You have to go get the packet of pills in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet and bring them back here as quickly as possible."

I didn't have a choice – there was no one else to ask. Plus, years of trust didn't just vanish overnight. He was still my friend.

He looked at me, holding the file in his hand as if about to open it. "But..." Then he lowered it. "Okay. Here, take this." Passing the papers to me, he turned and strode off, and as I watched I knew my momentary doubts had been unworthy of me.

*********

The call to the phone was unexpected and I almost considered not taking it, hiding out instead until Daniel got back and I could leave, but I couldn't do it. Habit won out and I picked up the nearest receiver.

It was a request to come up top, to the guard dog enclosure.

What had that stupid creature done now?

What I found when I reached the fenced area at the rear of the parking lot was chaos. Several guards, their weapons drawn, were running towards the far end of the compound. The sound of snarling and barking was loud in the crisp mountain air.

"Sir! Here, sir!" I saw Walter beckoning to me frantically and I took off, as fast as I could manage, towards him.

I arrived just in time.

"Halt!"

I was pleased to see I could still stop junior ranks with a word. The two SF's pointing their guns at Garmr pulled back, coming to attention, and looked at me as if not sure what to do next.

I could see why they had been willing to take such drastic action. Garmr was standing over one of the guard dogs, his teeth bared as he snarled down at the quivering animal beneath his feet. Another dog lay nearby, on his back with his belly exposed, whimpering.

At least there didn't seem to be any blood.

Except...

Garmr's coat was matted with blood, the liquid still running freely from a large wound in his side.

"Sir, it was the dogs. They attacked without warning." Walter looked as if he was about to cry. "We were just coming inside and they took me by surprise. There was nothing I could do."

"He's right, General. I tried to call Beau off, but he wouldn't obey. I don't understand it."

I spared the worried handler a glance, seeing the panic he was trying to hide as his dog cowered under Garmr's paws. The werga certainly looked menacing, with his strange eyes fixed on the dog's exposed neck.

I didn't have time for this and it certainly wasn't helping to keep my presence quiet. Moving nearer, and ignoring the warnings from the men around me, I grabbed Garmr by the back of the neck and yanked – hard.

"Get off him, you idiot."

He took a step back, releasing the guard dog, and leaned his weight against me, almost making me stagger – almost. I couldn't stagger around in front of the junior ranks so I pretended I meant to move, bending to run a hand along his side. It came back red. He was still snarling.

The dogs stayed on the ground, both belly up, and I wondered if they would ever recover from the embarrassment.

We had attracted a few more interested passer-bys, mainly other handlers. It was time to get out of here.

"They okay?"

The handler who had spoken before looked up from where he was crouching over his dog. "Looks like, sir, but he won't get up."

We both turned to the other dog, and his handler shook his head as well. "I think they're too scared to until you take your..." He looked at Garmr doubtfully. "...dog away."

"Yeah." I couldn't help a feeling of pride that Garmr had so easily taken them both down without even inflicting a scratch on them – something I didn't think he would have had the restraint to do. I gestured to Walter. "Let's go."

The Master Sergeant spent the whole trip across the wide grassy area apologizing despite me telling him he had nothing to apologize for. From everything he said it was obvious the guard dogs had made the first move. I was more concerned about getting Garmr's injury looked at as quickly as possible.

This had been a hell of a day – looked like neither of us were welcome here.

Doctor Lam didn't even bat an eyelid when I asked her to treat the werga. She didn't hesitate, immediately asking me to get him up on an examination bed.

I patted the soft surface. "Get up here so the doc doesn't have to bend."

He hardly needed to jump. I was pleased for the doctor's sake that he had stopped snarling after the elevator had dropped a few floors and wasn't looking too menacing. Lam waited until he had settled on his uninjured side and then got to work, expertly cleaning and stitching the wound. Garmr didn't even flinch through the whole thing, lying completely still until she was done.

"Finished." She took off her gloves as she spoke, turning to dispose of them in the trash as she did so. "He should stay still for a while if possible, but I don't think the wound will be any problem."

"Thanks, Doc." I ran my hand along his side, up to his head, and gave him a rub behind the ears. He pushed his bony skull into my hand and, to my surprise, his tail gave a few thumps. "I'll wait with him, if that's okay?"

She nodded her agreement and moved away, leaving us with just Walter.

"Would you let Daniel know where I am, Walter?"

He took it as the dismissal it was. "Yes, sir. Can I get you a coffee or anything to eat while you're waiting?"

"No, I'm fine." I hopped up on the bed next to Garmr's and lay back. "I'll try and get a bit more rest."

He left us there.

**********

I must have fallen asleep, but looking at my watch told me it had only been about twenty minutes before I woke to find Daniel walking across the infirmary towards me.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

I sat and pointed to an obviously bandaged Garmr. "I'm fine. He tangled with a couple of guard dogs. Did you find them?" The infirmary was too busy to come right out and ask if he had brought back General O'Neill's antidepressants.

"Sure, they were right where you said." He pulled the packet from his pocket and quickly handed them over, obviously understanding my concern. I pocketed them and stood.

"Thanks, Daniel." Garmr raised his head at my movement and immediately jumped from the bed, coming to my side.

Daniel sneezed.

"Say hi to Carter for me." I was already at the infirmary door as I spoke. "Tell her I'm sorry I didn't have time to call, and let T know I was sorry to have missed him."

"What? You aren't leaving already, are you? You just got here!"

We stepped into the elevator and I took the time to clasp him briefly on the shoulder. "Yeap, sorry, but I can't stay. Let Hank know I was on a tight schedule. Next time I'll call first and make sure he's here."

The door opened and I hurried to the Control Room, a loud sneeze telling me Daniel was still hard on my heels.

"Dial up Orilla." I snapped the small device I had carried in my pocket the whole time into a panel and tapped in the commands that would give the Gate the extra power it needed to get me to the other galaxy. Unfortunately it only worked to a Gate equipped to receive the signal and was a once only thing – not something even Carter could use to Earth's advantage. At least it gave me the ability to come visit if I wanted.

I turned to Daniel. "Really – I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

He smiled, scratching at his arm. "I understand – next time." He scratched again, this time his leg.

Then he sneezed.

I was sure Garmr gave a smirk as we walked out of the Control Room together. I looked at him, realizing he hadn't scratched once while we'd been at the SGC. His fleas seemed to have gone – somewhere.

I stopped, thinking about going back and telling Daniel, but changed my mind when Garmr gave me a nudge that almost sent me flying.

Stepping into the Gate Room, I looked up to where Daniel and Walter were staring out of the large window and gave a quick wave. As the eighth chevron lit and the Stargate roared into life I spared a thought for something I had remembered while waiting in the infirmary.

My third year as a general had come to an end a few days ago – this time without fanfare. It certainly hadn't been the best of years and had seen many changes in my life, most not for the best. I wasn't sure where the next was going to take me. I felt like I was adrift – leaving one home behind without really belonging to my new one, being driven, this time not by my own choice, from my friends and my very planet. I didn't know who to trust anymore. The Asgard were hiding something, that much was clear in their refusal to acknowledge the Wraith's presence in their galaxy, and the people now behind the scenes running the Stargate Program seemed to find me nothing more than an embarrassment.

I stepped through the wormhole, thankful to be leaving.

The End